Tales from the cabin
by Zoe-eoZ
Summary: A collection of little scenes and moments between Bonnie and Enzo. . About the time she almost cut off her finger, or how she learned to build a fire. Of werewolf bites and surfing lessons, and "I love yous"... - Chapter 14: Bonnie rebuilds the cabin and Enzo gets her back...
1. Tough day at the office

_This may turn into a collection of scenes between Bonnie and Enzo. We shall see._

* * *

She had been up to her head in research materials when he got back.

Sometimes, she really resented him. Because he had a life outside of this cabin. He got to steal away from here and play Alexandria's games. He didn't tire to remind her that it was not exactly fun and that he did it solely to keep up appearances. And to help keep his "cousin" from suspecting that he knew where she was.

But. It always left a bit of a sour taste in her mouth.

So now he was back once again, and she pressed her mouth together, disapproving. She couldn't help it. What did he expect? That she showed gratitude because he came back to the cabin to stay with her, keep her company?

Because she wasn't!

Okay. Maybe she was. A little.

...

He saluted her, "I see you've been busy studying. Find anything helpful for the cause?"

He threw a bag of groceries or something on the kitchen counter, but instead of starting to unpack it and busy himself making dinner for them - something he usually liked doing when he came out to see her - he slumped down heavily on the sofa chair to her side.

She frowned, oddly concerned. "Tough day at the office?" She asked, finally looking up from her computer to take him in. She noticed a light sheen of sweat on his brow, and dark circles around his eyes. Something was going on with him, and it wasn't good.

He scoffed. "Something like that." He didn't say any more, just sat there, eyes closed, breathing in and out shallowly.

"Are you okay?" Bonnie was openly staring at him now. He was acting very strange. No attempt at light banter, no further questioning her about the progress she had made finding out what could be hiding in the Armory's vault. He also didn't leave, like he sometimes did, when he only had time to quickly drop off some supplies, food for her, toiletries, and then had to go back to work for his shady family almost immediately.

"Enzo?"

Finally, he turned his head toward her, staring at her, and she noticed his breathing leaving his nostrils in erratic short bursts. Something was really really wrong.

Bonnie hopped off the couch so quickly she made the laptop topple over, and she had to extend a hand to catch it before it clanked on the table, hard. She did it without paying much attention. She was too focused on the vampire.

With a few wide strides, she was by his side, touching his forehead lightly. He flinched, but other than that, he didn't show much of a reaction. He was burning up.

"Okay," she said, "you need to tell me what the hell happened to you."

"Lovely," he breathed, "do I hear a trace of concern there, love?"

She glared at him, but said, "Yes, actually." And her scowl softened into something milder. Warmer. "What can I do?"

He had trouble talking, she could tell. "Nothing dramatic, just… a couple vervain soaked wooden bullets… couldn't… get them out myself, so…"

"So you figured you'd just drive yourself over here and nonchalantly sit and wait till I notice that something is off?" She scolded him, exasperated. That man was unbelievable.

He smirked a little, but she could see the pain beneath it. "Sorry, love. Didn't mean to annoy you. Just needed to… catch my breath for a minute. I thought I'd hold out till…" he trailed off. His eyes closed again, he let his head drop back a little. He was clearly at his limit. She sighed.

She could picture it now. She'd come to know him quite well after all. He'd probably gotten himself shot at on some dangerous mission or other. He'd tried to take care of his wounds himself, but obviously hadn't quite succeeded. He'd decided it was best he kept up his usual routine and make sure everything was okay at the safe house before giving the treatment of his injuries another try.

But then his body had failed him, or the pain had gotten too out of control; something or other. And here they were.

Bonnie pressed her lips together when she realized she was honestly worried about him. And not just because he was her only contact to the outside world. There was something there, a strange concern that came from a place deep down in her heart. Why?! She was slightly annoyed with herself.

"Where did you get hit?" She asked him, all business. Because she knew they needed to get those vile nasty bullets out of him. ASAP. And because it kept her from dwelling on those disturbing feelings she was starting to develop.

He murmured something, but she couldn't understand it. He was drifting off into unconsciousness.

This was not good.

"Enzo. Talk to me. Come on," she cajoled him, and her hands went to push his jacket open and away, before she began gently patting him down.

Suddenly he sat up rather abruptly, with an oddly guarded expression. He evaded her touch, and tried to stand up, making her rise in turn. "I'm… I'll be fine, love, just let me try and-"

He almost passed out then, and she hurried to catch part of his weight as he leaned heavily against her.

"Bullets," she said, briskly. "Where?"

And finally he pointed, just as she saw the bloodied backrest of the sofa chair.

So that's why he couldn't get them out himself.

…

Bonnie managed to walk him over to the bed. It was a slow and painful process for both of them. He was barely able to put one foot in front of the other, and had it not been for her functioning as his human crutch, he would have never made it. But she was determined. She did not want him passed out on the floor. She didn't quite know why it mattered so much, but she wanted him somewhere more appropriate for an injured person. She couldn't bear the thought of him just lying on the cold floor while she tried to get the bullets out.

So when they finally made it over to the bed, she helped him sit down first, and when she was about to help him lie down, he suddenly just fell back, and she gasped.

He was out cold. It was probably for the better, she thought, as she hurried to find supplies to get the bullets out of him.

She had to get him to lie on his stomach, easier said than done. She found herself pulling at him and briefly wondered how ridiculous they probably looked right about then.

When she had him in the right position, she pushed his jacket out of the way and gently pried his shirt off of his back. It was stuck to him where the wooden projectiles had penetrated his body.

She grimaced. It looked gastly, the vervained wood had done a good job at tearing through skin and muscle tissue. One had punctured a lung. No wonder he'd lost consciousness.

She felt a sudden pang of sympathy. She remembered that he was no stranger to pain, and that, somehow, made it worse. Poor guy couldn't catch a break apparently.

Tenderly, she went to work. Absentmindedly, she placed one hand where his back was uninjured and found herself marveling at the softness of his skin.

She shook her head. She needed to concentrate. She needed to be quick.

Just as she was almost done, she felt him stir. No, not yet, please, Enzo, she begged. If he moved too much this would be so much more difficult.

Or maybe she was just worried that she was causing him even more pain?

An hour later, he was lying passed out again on her bed, his back still exposed where she had just finished getting the last of the pieces of wood out of him. Thanks to the vervain, the holes in his body took their sweet time healing up, and he'd eventually succumbed to the strain and pain again, and Bonnie was ridiculously relieved about it.

He'd been very conscious through the last part of her "surgery" on him, however, and it had been unnerving and unsettling. She'd seen his face, how he'd clenched up against the pain, but never once made a sound.

And she'd remembered then that he was quite possibly no stranger to being operated on while wide awake.

She'd felt horrible. Like she was torturing him. And she'd had to shake her head and actively remind herself that she was _helping_ him.

She even heard him whisper a "thank you" close to the end. At least _he_ saw it as her doing him a favor.

…

The next morning, when he slowly walked out and over to the kitchen, still very obviously not back to normal, he looked at her somewhat sheepishly. "Thank you, for last night," he said, the beginnings of a smile on his face, but nothing full fledged, as if he was keeping it back. Staying guarded.

"You're welcome," she allowed. She was busy making - or trying to make - some eggs and sausages for a hearty breakfast because she figured he'd need something more than bloodbags.

She definitely did.

"My apologies. I shouldn't have exposed you to… I would have gone somewhere else if…" He was generally never one lost for words, but this time was different. He looked almost shy, and rather awkward. Embarrassed?

Bonnie couldn't help but smile. "But there was nowhere you could go," she finished for him, understanding, and he nodded ever so lightly. "This is your safe house, after all. I thought it best to keep you safe," she said, still smiling. "But please try to not get shot again so quickly. I'd rather not make this more than a one time thing."

He smirked and put a hand on his chest, over his heart. "I solemnly swear that I'll try my very best to not get shot at again, Ms. Bennett."

She grinned. "Okay," she allowed, "that's settled then. And now: hope you like… uh…" she stared over at her pan and her face fell a little. The eggs and sausages looked rather burnt and not at all like anything anyone would want to eat. "Burnt breakfast?" She asked, apologetically, and suddenly he heard him laugh a full blown laughter.

It was so different than anything she'd ever heard from him that she was startled. Mesmerized.

He had a ridiculously handsome laugh.

"Bonnie Bennett," he said, "thank you for saving my life yesterday. But please, let me make us breakfast or your efforts will have been for naught."

He'd slowly walked over to where she stood and got the piping hot pan off the stove and tossed it in the sink. He grinned widely at her. She slapped him playfully, he pretended to duck away, but then she let him take over gladly.

As she sat down across from him, watching as he went about his cooking, she wondered what else their strange arrangement might bring with it. She'd already stopped hating him. She'd secretly grown fond of him. Just a little bit.

And she had no idea how to handle that...


	2. Carrots and onions

After the first few weeks at this place that was going to be her "home" for the foreseeable future - whatever that meant - Bonnie had finally made up her mind.

If this was going to work, or at least be bearable, she'd have to actively make it so.

Therefore, when Enzo came home that night, like he usually did, she got up off the couch where she'd sat huddled and brooding, and told him, "I'll help with dinner."

Nothing more. No "hello, how was your day," or anything of that sort. No stupid small talk. She hadn't even waited for him to put his bag of fresh groceries on the counter.

What was up with that anyway? He always, unfailingly, brought fresh vegetables back to the cabin and then he cooked for them.

He cooked. Freaking Lorenzo St. John, vampire and Damon's friend-of-sorts, and he cooked. Enviously well, too.

She stood by the kitchen counter, a hand on it as if to steady herself, and pulled her her back to the side while staring at him.

A smile spread on his features. She expected a snarky remark, but to her surprise, he merely nodded over to the bag and said, "There're some carrots in there. Maybe you could wash those already and cut them up, while I'll take care of the onion."

He walked up to her, uncomfortably close, and stooped down a little, almost as if in a tango. She felt his breath against her neck, and she fought not to flinch. He was playing his little powerplay, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

No, Mr. St. John, Bonnie Bennett was not just your usual damsel, she was a witch - even if currently without access to her magic, and she wouldn't back down. She was just as strong as he was!

She shook her head. Right, she thought. Cooking. Aloud, she let him know, "Carrots it is. Any particular… cut?"

"You can julienne them. But whatever works for you," he replied and she was annoyed that she didn't know what "julienne" meant. She was not gonna admit to that, however. She'd just go with "whatever works for you."

They both got to work in the small kitchen area, and she secretly admitted that she was glad he'd spared her the onion. She already felt her eyes tear up a little from where she stood, those things were potent!

"Ow!" She suddenly yelled out, in shock. She hadn't paid attention at all to what she was doing. When she looked down where her big kitchen knife was still embedded in her index finger, she started shaking uncontrollably.

She'd almost cut her finger off! Instinct and reflex had made her want to pull it away, but it only intensified the pain. "Oh gosh, no," she whined, barely noticing that Enzo was already by her side, gently making her unharmed hand let go of the knife that she was still holding in a vise.

"Let me see, love," he said, his voice dark and calm, and strangely soothing.

She looked up to him, real tears in her eyes now, not just because of the onion anymore.

"I cut myself," she dumbly blurted, "I… cut myself…"

"I can see that," he said mildly but without mirth. She watched as he inspected the damage she'd done. "I'll have to pull the knife away from your finger." He looked at her, concern in his eyes. "That'll probably hurt."

She sobbed a little, but allowed an "okay. Can… can you be qui-"

Before she had gotten the last word out completely, he'd already finished. The searing pain exploded a second too late, and she let out a scream as she found herself being pulled against Enzo's chest.

He'd somehow managed to quickly wrap her finger in a rag or towel or some other fabric, she couldn't be sure, and she didn't care, and was now holding her.

"You're alright," he murmured into her hair, but she couldn't stop crying just yet. It hurt so friggin' bad.

"It hurts. It hurts it hurts," it escaped her, her body shaking like reeds in his warm embrace. She didn't even care at the moment that she was supposed to only moderately tolerate him if at all. Right now he was her anchor, her shield against the pain.

"I know, love," he soothed, "it'll be over soon. If you allow me, I'll give you some of my blood to help you heal faster."

So polite. He could be such a gentleman, it was jarring. Though right now she really didn't care.

She didn't even care that this was usually quite a tough decision for her, she just begged him to get it over with already, to make the pain stop. To make her finger be alright again.

And he did.

…

It was after a dinner that he'd finished up alone, that she had finally completely calmed down again. They were still sitting together, quietly, and she felt his inquisitive stare on her.

"I'm fine now," she eventually allowed, looking a little sheepish. "I'm sorry I… lost it there, earlier."

"That's quite alright. And understandable." He smiled. She was, yet again, surprised he wasn't milking it. She felt the need to explain herself, she didn't know why.

"It's just… the pain-" she abruptly stopped herself there, her face flushing with embarrassed heat. Of course he knew everything about pain. What would he be thinking of her, a sobbing mess because of a bad cut on her finger. Granted, she'd almost amputated the limb, but still. It was surely nothing compared to what he'd had to endure in his past.

His past… she knew so little about it. Everyone only ever spoke of it as if it was all just some short random unfortunate thing. But that hadn't been the case.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "you must think I'm so ignorant. Here I sit and complain about something as small-"

He waved a hand at her, a small gesture begging her to stop. She saw it in his eyes, something dark. But all he said aloud was, "I wouldn't exactly say almost cutting a finger off is small. I'm glad you let me help you," he nodded to her, lifting his wrist up a little as if to remind her. But she didn't need reminding. She still had the copper taste in her mouth, and she licked her lips subconsciously.

He continued, "But let's agree on one thing: I'll do the cooking from now on, and you… we'll find something else for you to do. How about…" he stood up abruptly and walked over to the wall facing the couch, picking up a guitar that had sat there untouched ever since she first got to the cabin.

He walked back over to her and placed the instrument in her hands. "You want me to play the guitar," she stated, incredulous. And he smiled widely.

"Music is a wonderful pastime, is it not?"

"I don't even know how to play."

He positively beamed. "Even better! That will be your new task then, your new 'hobby' to keep you busy and entertained. No one can stare at the computer and old books non stop. Since cooking is clearly too much of a hazard, you can learn how to play-"

She shook her head no, but couldn't help the small smile that crept up.

"I'll show you, love. You'll see. In no time you'll be able to play and then…"

She smiled at him, awkwardly.

"Come on, give it a try," he encouraged her. But as soon as she did and the cord she struck sounded like a horribly disharmonious shrumming, they both just started laughing.

"Alright," he allowed, "this will be quite the project…"

"You sure?" She teased and struck the cord again. He covered his ears, smirking.

"Okay okay, stop it, Bonnie Bennett. First lesson will start… now."

And he grabbed the guitar off her again and showed her where to place her fingers. It was a strange, almost tender moment, and she marveled at how natural it felt.


	3. Beautiful fire

_This one is dedicated to spreadthepeace..._

* * *

It got cold in that damn cabin. It hadn't taken Bonnie long to notice that.

And damn, did it get cold in the winter.

She finally understood why Enzo had insisted on showing her how to start a fire in the fireplace over in the living room area. She had told him she didn't need his help and that she was very capable of doing it on her own - if need be.

But he'd shaken his head and kneeled down by the fireplace anyway, droning on about fuel logs and smaller twigs and paper and kindling, and wet wood and dry wood.

She hated to admit it now, but she'd zoned out almost immediately. This was not a camping trip. Or the Girl Scouts. She didn't need a lesson about building a fire.

But then he'd messaged her late two nights ago.

 _Won't be able to get out to you till the 22nd_.

Nothing more. No explanation, just a random date. A random date roughly a month away. She knew there was plenty of food stowed away in the kitchen cabinets and an adjoining small pantry-like closet. But she'd have to make do without all the fresh vegetables. And fruit. She'd checked. There was still some broccoli, and Brussels sprouts. A lonely zucchini, a bunch of carrots. Onions and garlic en masse.

So much for that old stereotype about vampires, she'd thought when she'd inspected the pantry and found the cloves and cloves of garlic.

She knew she'd be fine. There were still some pretty yummy leftovers, too. She wouldn't starve.

But she might very well just die from the cold.

She sniffled to herself, rubbing her cold nose against the outside of her hand. She needed a tissue, but she also needed to get a friggin' fire started. Preferably stat.

She tried to remember what Enzo had told her. Big logs first. Check. Smaller ones on top. Twigs if she found any. And not too wet. Check, and check. Why then was her fire never catching?

She tried to rearrange the wood yet again, cursing quietly to herself when one big log fell right out and onto the rug in front of her, leaving ugly dirt marks.

"Come on," she cajoled, herself or the fire, she wasn't sure, and then she suddenly remembered. The stupid paper! Something for the fire to hold onto to keep it going, to keep the flame alive long enough to catch onto the bigger logs.

"Aha!" She yelled, looking around herself sheepishly when she realized just how loud she'd yelled the small exclamation. But of course no one was there. It was just the cabin and Bonnie Bennett.

A glorious story, "Bonnie in the cabin". She wondered what it was about. The ache of loneliness? The trials of life? A love story? She laughed a short bright laugh at the last one.

Who was there to love in this dreary little cabin with the well equipped kitchen? Maybe the brownies she'd whipped up the other night when loneliness hadn't let her sleep. Though she overbaked those and instead of fudgy they were cakey and dry.

Too many random thoughts while she crumbled up some paper and tossed it on her pile of wood. Just a couple more for good measure and she was ready to go.

She lit the match, watched the flame burn for a brief moment and then held it against one of the balls of paper. It caught fire immediately. She watched as it slowly spread - and took!

She did it! She finally did it. No more freezing under three blankets like last night, when she'd lain awake, praying for Enzo to get there and save her only to find out he wouldn't.

But since when did Bonnie Bennett need a man - a vampire! - to rescue her, anyways?

She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

* * *

o ... o

It was early, still dark, the fire still going, she'd seen to that. She'd camped out on the couch to stay closer to its warmth. And so that she could tend to it if it threatened to die down.

It had gotten even colder in the last few days, way past freezing. She hadn't even set foot outside yesterday because it was that bad.

But it wasn't the fire that had woken her up, it was a sudden noise coming from outside. There was someone at the door. Her heart started racing, and she jumped up off the couch, a thick blanket still wrapped around her, when she remembered what day it was. The 22nd.

He must be back, she realized. Just like he'd said. Not a day shorter. Not a day longer.

With a whoosh of ice cold air, the door was opened and then she saw him. There were snowflakes in his hair, bright white against the dark, and his lips barely had any color in them.

"Geez, you couldn't wait till a more… humane hour to come back here? I was trying to sleep," she said, automatically going for an annoyed tone, and regretting it right away. When she saw his unamused expression, she felt even worse.

He was always one for snarky banter. But right now, the beginnings of a grimace could be seen on his frozen features, and Bonnie looked at him, puzzled.

"That cold?" She asked, already suspecting that he hadn't just walked over from the car a few feet.

He walked straight past her to the fire she'd built hours before, and kneeled down in front of it, holding his hands out to the warmth emanating from it. "Nice job on the fire, Bonnie Bennett," he rasped, giving her an appreciative look. The compliment sounded sincere. She frowned anyway.

"Did you have to walk here or something? You look positively frozen."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"What happened to your vampire speed?"

He almost flinched, but caught himself. "Funny thing about vampire speed: doesn't work as well anymore once it's below freezing," he stared into the flames so intently that she wondered what he saw. She knew that he'd burned once, and couldn't shake the thought that maybe, deep down, he should show more fear of the fiery heat.

She was so preoccupied by the thought that she nearly missed him adding, "Definitely not over a long stretch."

"A long stretch?" From where had he walked, then?

"Car broke down north of here," he raised his eyebrows, clearly annoyed, "before I'd even gotten to the edge of the forest."

That was miles away then. Miles spent in the cold.

As if of her own accord, her legs carried her over to the fireplace, next to where he still sat in front of the warmth, and she sunk down next to him, extending her hands to grab his. They felt like ice under her warm touch and she found herself gently rubbing them.. "Can I get you anything?" She surprised herself by asking him, and he surprised her more by presenting her with the sweetest grateful smile.

"I appreciate it, love. Your beautiful fire is all I need."

Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't merely talking about the literal fire, and she gave him a quizzical look, a slow heat creeping up her spine from very far down below.

While he did wiggle his eyebrows potentially suggestively, he was still a bit of an enigma to her. All those mixed signals. Sometimes he was so guarded, sometimes an open book, yet she never truly understood him.

Who knew, maybe one day she'd learn to decipher him, too, like she'd learned to decipher how to build a fire.


	4. Bathtubs and wine

_This is bordering a bit on a higher than T rating. Just bordering, though..._

* * *

She was in the bathtub. Unlike in the movies, there was nowhere near enough foam to cover her nakedness.

To cover her breathtaking beauty.

He'd gotten to the cabin earlier than usual. Alex had made him chase down some random assholes and "interrogate" them, but he'd seen through it right away. It had nothing to do with the Armory and everything with some ex-boyfriend. He bailed out of there so quickly that the poor devils had probably thought he'd been some sort of apparition.

So here he was. He'd walked in unannounced, for this was his cabin after all, and honestly, he hadn't expected her to decide to take a bath mid-day, with the bathroom door gaping wide open.

Since he was also a vampire, a creature of night and dark shadows, he'd been quiet. And she hadn't heard him over the light pitter patter of the dripping faucet.

Once he'd spotted her, he'd frozen on the spot, standing at an angle that made it impossible for her to see him yet. He knew he needed to make himself known somehow, without embarrassing her, or making her feel uncomfortable, or worse, violated.

But for a few blissful moments, he basked in her beauty. How sensually she moved her half floating body, a glass of red wine in one hand and the other…

Enzo felt himself stiffen in all the right places. Or the wrong ones...

Her free hand was sliding down between her thighs; so casual, so natural was the movement that he knew this was her thing. He licked his lip, clenching his jaw to keep himself from making a sound.

He saw her fingers disappear, and it was as if he could feel just what was under the tip of her fingers.

He _wanted_ to feel it.

He _needed_ to…

With sudden determination, he closed his eyes and took a few steps back. Forced himself to say, "Hello, love!"

He heard the water splash as she must have scrambled into a more sitting position, then a loud "clank" indicated that she'd dropped the glass.

"Oh shit!" She exclaimed and a smile formed on his face.

"You alright, love?" He asked, making himself sound even closer to the bathroom, and as unsuspecting as possible. Problem was, he still had an erection, and couldn't quite think clearly.

He knew he should stay away, but he couldn't. He poked his head into the room, "Everything alright in here…" he trailed off before he'd really asked his question, the inflection of his words going so low it sounded like a statement at best. There she was, out of the tub now, but still dripping wet, and only a small towel barely covering her.

She startled and looked frantically around for a bigger towel. Being quite the gentleman, he took one off the hook close to the doorway and dangled it in front of her. "I'm sorry," he said, "did I interrupt anything?"

She glared at him, heat in her face, but he didn't know whether it was from past arousal or current anger. Either way, it did not help with his own little "problem" that he was now covering with the jacket that he'd taken off moments ago.

"Can't you see I'm trying to take a bath?"

"Oh, I can," he allowed, smirking, "I just didn't realize it was a thing to throw glasses of red wine on the floor as part of the… experience. Is this a new trend I missed?"

"It was an accident."

"The wine, or just the throwing part?" He winked at her. There was a half smile, half annoyed pout in her face.

"I'll give you time to… finish your bath, love. And then why don't we drink some wine together?"

Sometimes he hated himself for wanting to be so proper with her. Part of him - and it was a big part - wanted to have his way with her. Wanted to put his fingers where hers had been just minutes before. Wanted to explore the rest of that gorgeous body…

But he was not that kind of man. Not with her. And he didn't want to alienate her. It was hard enough already to get behind her barriers, he didn't want to ruin the little improvement he'd achieved so far.

So he went back to the kitchen, looking for more glasses and a better wine, and waited for her to come to him and drink. Chastely. But at least together…

…

She hadn't expected him back yet. She'd been mortified when she'd heard his voice. What if he'd seen her? She felt the heat in her cheeks burn her like crazy at the mere thought.

It was also kind of a turn on… if only she could really finish her bath, as she'd intended to. Or, even better, if only he'd actually walked in on her…

But now she was too self conscious, with him waiting not far, the fantasies would have to wait till another time.

What was up with her anyways? Fantasizing about Enzo. Psh. Maybe it was cabin fever.

Or maybe he was just growing on her in more ways than one.

He'd always been objectively hot, yes, but she'd never seen him that way, because…

Because.

Reasons.

...

Reasons could change...


	5. Humanity projects

_Thank you, Juno, for reading both this and my other story. The feedback is much appreciated. While I'm happy enough just writing this for myself, it's so great to see someone else get some enjoyment out of it - which is why I post it here. :)_

 _I'll of course also take concrit...)_

* * *

 _...your bestie, your sidekick, your humanity project. The man who spins your moral compass in a tizzy… [Season 7 / Episode 14]_

* * *

…

She should have been clued in on it back then. In the "before."

For her life was currently clearly cut into two halfs: before the cabin, and in the cabin. She sometimes wondered when the "after" would start. And where it would find her…

Before the cabin, when Stefan Salvatore had carried the huntress' mark on his body, when Damon had still been around…

When she'd tried to help her best friend - the one that was not currently sleeping off a spell in a coffin somewhere far away from her - help his brother, that was when she'd suddenly had to deal with Enzo again.

Hed talked. He'd hit her over the head. He'd given her ice. He'd broken out in some tirade about Damon being her "humanity project," and she'd been annoyed.

What she should have been, was a little more sympathetic. She knew that now.

Suddenly she remembered all those things he'd said, all those things she gleaned about him from elsewhere, too. Elsewhere being Damon…

 _I know how to comfort myself, live off scraps, and catch disease. The rest? You know, love, relationships, family... These are things I know_ nothing _about._

He'd told her that, a strange confession of sorts, definitely unexpected. He hadn't usually been one to disclose his feelings or serve up his life story on a platter.

But she'd accused him of selfishness, and he'd lashed out in his own way.

That was a while ago, though, and she was starting to see more and more of the real him.

That look he'd given her just now, after they'd talked about Damon's stupid letter. Bonnie bit her lip just thinking about it. So much compassion. She honestly hadn't expected so much understanding from him.

She really didn't know him at all.

 _Someone like you, with all that fire and passion and... loyalty, you deserve much, much better than that._

His words had moved her, their aftertaste still lingering, fueling her smile. She looked at him. She knew he was done talking, that he'd said all he ever intended to say, but a question had grown stronger in her, ever stronger, and it was begging to be asked.

"Why?" She started and was met with a quizzical look.

"Why?" he repeated, clearly confused, "Because you are a remarkable person, Bonnie Bennett. You are…"

She would have liked to hear what he had to say about her, but her words had been out before he'd started replying to what he'd thought was her question. "I meant, why are you still so… hung up on Damon, then?"

He stopped himself and flinched. His body tensed considerably, and he averted his gaze, as if he didn't want to - or couldn't - look at her anymore. Part of her wanted to back off, tell him "I'm sorry" and let it be. But the other, stronger part just waited. She was curious.

And desperate. Because Damon held a power over her, over her heart and her whole being, that she didn't completely understand. And somehow she hoped that, if she saw it in someone else, in Enzo, and got an explanation from him, that she'd be able to sever all emotional bonds that still tied her to the desiccated coward.

Enzo's jaw worked. He'd folded his arms in front of him, such a defensive gesture. Then, suddenly, he looked at her again, his expression guarded again, all warmth and understanding gone.

The dark, threatening Enzo St. John seemed to be back in the room. She couldn't quite quench a feeling of regret.

"Have you ever listened to anything I said?" His eyes were flickering. But other than that she couldn't read him. Was he upset? Annoyed? Hurt?

"I have," she carefully said. "That's why I'm asking. You spent five years together, each of you in a cell, making escape plans. And he left you. You spent fifty years of 'mental anguish'," she threw his words back at him, air quoting, "wondering why, or whether it was you. You _know_ it wasn't. You _know_ you did nothing wrong and that it was all his fault. Yet here you are, always following him around like a kicked puppy, playing your little powerplay with him every chance you get, both of you always hurting one another mentally or physically…," she looked at him, strangely exasperated on his behalf that he still hadn't interrupted her, or contradicted her. Or denied anything.

He just sat there, like a statue, staring without blinking.

"Do I need to go on."

A small smile flickered across his features. "So you _have_ listened."

She shot him a glare, her mouth a thin line of annoyance. "So?" she challenged after a minute of silence.

"I'm touched by your interest in my choices of friends."

She raised her eyebrows, scoffing, "Plural 'friends'? Tell me who else you even consider a friend beside Damon Salvatore? And we both know that he doesn't make for a very good friend, you just admitted as much-"

"If you'd been in my shoes, what would you have done?" He retorted, leaning back very far, as if to bring more distance between them. "It's not exactly like I had much opportunity to make any friends in the last couple of _decades_ ," he emphasized the last word, making a point, "And while I wish I could be more careful with who I choose to be my friend, I can't. I have a feeling you'll throw dignity back in my face again, but I tell you this now, Bonnie Bennett: I don't have the luxury of showing dignity, because without Damon, I'd have no one. No one in my life to direct all the loyalty and love toward, and hatred. And all those other feelings that every person has inside of them. Do I hate him for what he did? With a passion. Should I forgive him? Probably not. So why do I do it? Because as much as I hate him, I love him too. He's like a brother to me, the only friend and family member I will probably ever know."

He stood up, finally silent, and dared her with his eyes to say something. He mouth moved, unsure yet of what to say.

He was agitated, his shoulders tense, his arms like barricades across his body. There was a fire in his eyes that was so different than the compassion she'd seen just minutes earlier. She'd unintentionally hurt him deeply, her curiosity killing the moment they'd had.

But suddenly she understood. Friends… Her features softened, concern making room for a small smile. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I'm sorry if I did."

She could tell that he hadn't expected the apology. He shifted his weight, his eyes still shuttered, but a slight gleam of something new in his eyes now.

"I guess I had just hoped that your reasons could be mine," she admitted, "That I'd understand better why Damon Salvatore holds such power over the ones he hurts the most."

"I told you that's just Damon…"

"I know," she agreed mildly, slowly rising up off her chair. She walked a few steps toward him. He didn't back away. Not even when she got right in his face, her mouth almost touching his cheek as she leaned in, keeping her body angled by placing a hand on his upper arm. "And you were right. You do have 'plural friends,' Lorenzo St. John. I am your friend. And I promise you here and now that I will not abandon you, or exchange you for someone else as soon as I get the chance."

She looked up to him and saw amused confusion in his face. But he was touched. She could tell by the way he looked at her.

She knew he wouldn't say anything yet, and that she needed to steer their conversation into safer territory again if she wanted to make it easier for him at all.

And she did. She wanted nothing more than to make him hurt a little less.

"I'd understand it, however, if you wanted to put some distance between us now, because I fully intend on practicing playing the guitar, to get my mind off all things Damon Salvatore or Alexandria St. John, or the Armory, or anti magic pills, or whatever. So you might want to seek refuge elsewhere."

And she patted his arm and walked away from him, not without seeing his small smirk widen into a big grin.

"In that case," he informed her, "why don't I do both of us a favor and show you a few more cords…" With that, he sped over to the guitar before she had a chance to reach it, and made her sit on the couch with him.

"Lesson number 203," she said, and they both started laughing...

When she'd gotten comfortable next to him, watching his fingers dance over the strings, she smiled to herself a little. She was glad it had worked, that they could sit together again, giving each other comfort. As strange as it was.

And she could finally admit that he had become her comfort. Her one true friend when Caroline was busy being a mom, and Elena under a spell, and Damon...

Nope, he didn't deserve her thinking about him anymore-

"Are you even paying attention, love?" she suddenly heard Enzo playfully chide her and she returned her focus to him and the guitar.

"Yeah," she said, smiling, "of course. Show me again," and she grabbed the guitar and tried her luck, his guiding hand over hers. His touch all the reassurance she needed.


	6. Afraid of fire

_No idea where this came from. I had every intention to write something different and ended up with this._

 _Anyways. Thank you guys for the feedback, and glad to see you over here, too, Guest!_

* * *

...

He was jealous. He hated to admit it, even if only to himself, but he was freaking jealous of Damon.

No. Not of Damon. He was jealous of what he had. Of what that woman invested in him. The friendship, the loyalty.

The chances.

She gave him _chances_.

Enzo wanted _that_. As trivial as it sounded, but if he was somebody's "humanity project," he'd consider himself a lucky man.

He sighed.

He'd offered her ice. He'd felt bad for hitting her over the head. But when she just accused him and took Damon's side - or rather, just _not_ Enzo's - he got angry again. Because it got to him. How Damon managed to get people like her to stick with him, to help him. To believe in him.

...

Whatever. He didn't need that. He had only himself to look out for, and it was good that way. His allegiances, his loyalties, were with himself. And it made him less vulnerable.

He couldn't afford to be vulnerable. So he wasn't.

He wasn't…

* * *

…

It was late. It was so freaking late that it was early. And he was tired. He poked the dying fire and watched some ember sparks fly. He was unaware that he flinched a bit.

But he was very aware of her sudden appearance behind him.

"Can't sleep either?" She said and walked closer to the fire, to him.

He grimaced to himself. "You have no idea, love…" he muttered, then smiled at her before returning his attention to the fire.

"Pardon?" she said, but it was not like he'd actually intended for her to hear his words anyways so he simply said, "Too cold, huh?"

She nodded, her expression half a grimace, half a smile. She had draped a woolen blanket over herself, holding it in place with her fists right by her throat. It was ice cold, even with the fire. The blizzard outside was still going strong, and the wind just blew through the crack under the door - and the windows. He'd need to do something about the insulation, that much was a given.

He felt bad that he hadn't done so earlier. This was the second hard winter period they'd had down here. At least she had gotten great at building fires. He'd barely had to do much to keep this one going. Her initial build up had been perfect.

He felt her presence as she came closer until she, too, sat down in front of the fire, her slender hands unclasping themselves as she let the blanket fall away a little to warm them. He got a glimpse of a bare shoulder. Her shirt had slid off of it along with the blanket and he observed himself fix it as if his hand was moving of its own accord.

She stared at him. He gave her an apologetic smile, "Didn't mean to overstep. Just looking out for you, love. Gotta keep you warm…"

He was strangely relieved when she smiled back, throwing her head back just a little in the process so that her hair cascaded down her back, baring her beautiful neck. She could have retorted with some snarky comment or other, and the moment would have ended in their usual banter.

He was glad that it didn't.

He continued to stare into the fire, his mind preoccupied with dark thoughts that he couldn't seem to shake tonight. Feeling her warmth beside him was the one good thing about his night.

"Let me put another log in," she whispered and went about her way. He knew better than to play the gentleman and do it for her. She could take care of herself, and he loved that about her.

She took the poker from him and shoved the log deeper into the remaining glow. With a sudden loud noise, the big piece of wood fell to the side, sending sparks and little pieces of debris flying. They both backed away, just as a bit of ember started burning a hole into the rug they sat on.

With a quick and rough movement, he hurled her up and further away with him, and he felt her body crash into his chest as she scrambled to get on her feet.

She glared at him, shocked. "What the-" she started, but he'd already let go to extinguish the fire that was threatening to spread on the rug. When his gaze caught hers again, he could see that she'd only now realized what had happened.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered, "I didn't… thank you."

He clenched his teeth, but smiled. He was aware that he'd probably reacted a bit strongly to such a small flame. "I didn't mean to…" what? Be so rough? So worried for her safety, and his own?

Freaking fire. He'd never ever lose his respect for it. Which was good, he guessed, but sometimes, his old fear took ahold of him again and then…

He noticed her smiling at him, with a frown. "Are you okay, Enzo?"

He loved it when she said his name. She didn't do it all that often. "Of course, love. Are you? I didn't hurt you, did I? Sometimes I get a little over eager in my attempts to play the knight in shining armor and rescue the maiden."

Another chance for her to reply with snark that she didn't use. She looked positively concerned.

For him? He frowned in confusion, then followed her gaze to his hands. He cringed.

He was still kneeling on the rug where he'd patted the fire out with his bare hands. He had been lucky. They were only slightly singed at best and would heal quickly. But he was afraid he'd shown her a little too much of his desperation and weakness. He should have used the glass of water on the table, or his own blanket that still lay discarded over the sofa chair.

But he'd used his hands, in a sudden panic, he'd felt like the only thing to protect her, and himself, were his bare hands. He sighed and got up. He'd have to come up with something to say that would make him seem a little less like a deranged masochist and a little more like a sane person she could actually trust.

And he wanted her to trust him. He wanted to _be_ someone she could trust.

He stood there, unable to create a smile, and looked at her. "I promise I'm not as crazy as you probably think," he started, but she waved a hand and he felt his hope sink. He let his head droop, sighing. "I'll just…"

Suddenly, he felt her touch on his wrists as she grabbed them, gently. He backed away anyway, for the split second that his brain needed to translate the situation. She was not attacking him, of course... What the hell was wrong with his stupid brain and reflexes tonight. It must have been the lack of sleep catching up with him again, as it sometimes did when he had one of his episodes of a row of bad nights.

"Enzo."

He looked into her eyes, emerald sparkling at him. He realized that she must have said his name a couple of times. She cocked her head, turning his hands so that she could inspect his palms.

"Will I live?" He tried joking, and she smiled.

"I'm not sure. Your hands will heal, but your level of stupid is concerning," she said, but there was a warmth behind her words that told him she'd caught on to something deeper. Darker.

She bit her lip. He couldn't look away from those gorgeous lips if he wanted to. He was acutely aware of her hands on his wrists, her skin touching his. And the look she gave him. She really looked at him, her smile fading, making room for worry.

She worried. About him.

"I had wondered about this, before...," she suddenly said, and he could tell that her words had been out before she'd had a chance to reign them back in. He almost smiled. He could see how it battled inside of her. "How you could even stand to be so close to the fire… Damon…"

"Likes to talk," he concluded, nodding his head briefly, understanding dawning. Of course the Salvatore would have given Bonnie Bennett a very vivid account of their Augustine time together. Their parting. It was not a secret. "Don't worry, love. I promise I'm not usually-"

"It's alright, you know? It's normal to be afraid, especially after such a traumatic experience as yours."

He cocked his head. Puzzled. Flustered. He averted his gaze because it was too hard to hold hers. How did she always get to him so much? How did she always see straight down to his soul? He tried so hard to pretend everything was fine, and with just a few words she bared his innermost feelings and left him vulnerable.

"I'm…"

"You don't need to say anything. I know how you guys are. Damon and you… you're so much alike, and yet so different," she talked as if to herself. She was smiling now, just a small expression, but it was there. "You pretend to be so strong and invulnerable. You don't want anyone to see your pain, but sometimes, that's why it explodes out of you. Damon usually covers it up with aggression and cockiness, one of his killing sprees or bar crawls and brawls. But you…" he felt her gentle touch on his cheek and almost forgot to breathe, "you just… pretend all is well and raise your barriers back up." She paused, neither of them saying anything for a moment. "Don't," she finally said, "you don't need barriers around me. It's okay to let someone in every once in a while," her voice had turned into a whisper.

He fought the urge to do just what she'd accused him of, to pretend all was well, to come up with a few joking words to make the situation go away. It would have been so easy, yet…

"I promise you can trust me."

His jaw was working again as it always was when he was agitated. Her words were too good to be true.

"Trust me, Lorenzo St. John. I understand. I _understand_. And I'm here for you. Okay?" She implored him. "Okay?"

And he gave her the smallest of nods, because he couldn't manage anything else, and he finally let her guide him over to the kitchen where she let cool water run over his hands, both of them standing by the sink in silence, his gaze on her as he felt her body touch his, she was so close.

Then she looked up for just a moment and gave him the warmest smile and he knew he was lost.

He was falling in love with this girl.

Lorenzo St. John was losing his heart to Bonnie Bennett. And he knew he might not survive it if it got broken again.

…


	7. Issues

_Thank you all for your interest! I'm honestly not sure what this is other than my own filling in the blanks kind of thing. I also don't know why I still can't get over their love story. It holds me captive still... And I love having you guys to "discuss" it with. :)_

* * *

...

In the before, she'd once felt his pain. She'd been the anchor and he'd touched her to pass on through to the Other Side.

It had been a layered pain. Severe.

But then, all the pain she'd felt back then had been like that. She'd suffered as much as the supernatural beings had when they had died. It had felt like she was dying. Over and over and over again.

She wasn't really sure why, but among all the others, he had still stuck out somehow.

She'd also saved him later, when everything had come crashing down.

Why? She didn't know.

He'd left an impression. A mark, almost.

His fierceness. His anger. His denial.

* * *

…

She hated how everything was always about the others.

She hated that _she_ always cared more about the others. That something always forced her to look out for them and make sacrifices, and then, later, she'd be left, alone, lonely, and regretting some of the consequences of her doing.

People had died because of it. _She_ had died…

Bonnie sniffed. It had been a shitty day. Scratch that. It had been a shitty couple of months.

After the last time she'd seen Enzo, she had thought they'd had shared a moment. She'd felt closer to him than ever before. Like he was a real friend, a kindred soul.

They'd fallen asleep sitting on the couch together, dawn already approaching. She'd felt her head grow heavier and heavier, and she hadn't been able to pick herself up off the couch anymore to go to bed. She'd just fallen asleep right there, her head resting against his shoulder.

When she'd woken up, she'd lain on the couch, a blanket draped carefully around her, her head resting on a pillow, and he had been busy working on the windows. She'd walked out to where he was working, a hot cup of coffee warming her hands, a thick scarf around her neck, and a puffy jacket to top it all off, while he'd just worked with his thin leather jacket on, exuding a strange heat, even though his breath was a cloud of condensation.

"Your hands alright?" She'd asked, and he'd smiled at her, nodding.

"Good enough to get some better insulation installed," he'd told her, and she'd made an appreciative sound.

They'd had breakfast together after. It had been such a nice morning.

And then he'd casually informed her that he wouldn't be able to come back for a while. Admittedly, he'd looked rather upset about it all, though he'd assured her the pantry was stocked up, the freezer too, and he'd gotten her her favorite shampoo and conditioner and the small interdental brushes she'd raved about in the past (and when had he had time to do all that anyways?).

But he'd have to leave her alone.

...

She knew she shouldn't overuse her phone so as not to endanger her - few remaining… - friends, and she couldn't just go see them for the same reasons. While she knew she was free to go anywhere, she really wasn't. She was trapped by circumstances bigger than herself and she hated it. She also hated it that he was her only contact to the outside world.

And she loathed it that she was so broken up about his departure.

He was Enzo St. John! They had never had anything much of a relationship before. They'd hated each other, he'd used her, he'd never cared about her.

Until he had.

She shook her head.

She'd be alone for the next weeks. Lots of time to ask herself how she really felt about him.

Why he got under her skin so much…

* * *

…

He messaged her. After the first two weeks of no contact, he messaged her.

 _Tried out the hand lotion? It's Clementine…_ he'd written as his first message and she rolled her eyes at the triviality. He'd been gone for two weeks and that was what he chose to ask her about?

Yet she found herself walking to the bathroom, eying the still unopened tube, and then sheepishly dabbing her hand with a small glob of the lotion inside. She loved the scent, it actually smelled natural, nothing overpowering or chemical. Just sweet clementine with a dash of fresh tartness. It was probably sheer luck that he'd found something she actually liked, but she was secretly impressed.

Still, she wrote, _I sit abandoned in a freaking cabin! But yeah, the lotion smells nice._

She trusted he'd be able to decipher the right amount of upset snark she'd felt at writing it.

She did _not_ expect him to call just seconds after she'd sent it out.

"Are you upset, love? It's getting to you, isn't it?"

It sounded like he was on the road somewhere, in a too loud car. She rolled her eyes. Men and their toys… But she also heard something like actual concern in his voice.

"The loneliness," he continued, when she wasn't forthcoming with any reply.

She opened and closed her mouth. She was really not prepared for an actual conversation. Today was one of those days where everything just came crashing down on her, and having no friends around to distract her or lend an ear made it all the harder.

"I'm just… _yeah_ ," she finally admitted, "I'm lonely, and cranky, and no shitty guitar playing or reading more stuff about the stupid Armory makes it any better."

"I'm sorry, love." She envisioned him grimacing at her words. Technically, the Armory was his family business, but she knew his loyalties didn't lie with them.

"Yeah, I know. It's… today just sucks. Somehow I just always end up alone, making stupid sacrifices for other people and then I get left behind. I mean, where's the armada of helpful friends to take down the Armory or at least help me figure out what they want and keep me company in the meantime? I… I'm sorry, I know you do your best," she allowed, because she suddenly pictured his mouth as a thin line, a sensual line… (what the hell, Bonnie Bennett?) And she didn't want to sound ungrateful.

"I just wish that now that it's about me for once, that there was someone there to fight this fight with me. You know, when the Other Side broke down, I fought. When Elena needed me, I fought. I fought to keep Damon alive, stupid Damon! When I was trapped in my own forever-hell with Kai. And now the idiot lies desiccated in a coffin, and Elena is comatose till I die, Caroline… well, she has other loyalties now, too. Which also takes Alaric out. Matt or Tyler, or even Stefan… they all don't seem to care. They're all too busy with their lives. And let's not even mention any of my family. They're all either dead or they abandoned me. Like my mom," she bit her lip. She'd never completely get over that. She couldn't allow herself to linger on that thought. "And Jeremy, well he's… just somehow vanished out of my life. Looks like nobody really cares enough to stick around. And if they do, they get torn away from me."

She knew she sounded bitter. She also realized she'd held a friggin' monolog. Why had Enzo not interrupted her, saved her from rambling on like that?

She suddenly heard him breathe in a sharp breath on the other end followed by the sound of a distant car honking.

Had he zoned out because she'd bored him and thus almost driven into the other lane or something? She was ready to be angry at him, at the very least annoyed, but suddenly he said,

"I know you deserve so much more, Bonnie, than just one person in your corner, but it's all I can give you," he paused, and she was oddly anxious for him to go on. To hear someone say something nice and selfless about her, it was almost too much. She felt tears well in her eyes and she was glad he couldn't see it, in case he was just somehow leading her on. But he wasn't, right?

"You got _me_ , love. Fighting your fight. I know I'm probably your least favorite person to do so, but I'm here. And no matter what, I want you to know that I did not abandon you in that cabin. Because I know what being abandoned feels like. I know it all too well. And I don't want you to ever have to feel like that again. You deserve so much better, and I'm so sorry that this is the best I can give you right now."

He sounded so sincere, so passionate, so upset that Bonnie knew, if he'd been with her rather than on the other end of a phone connection, she'd have kissed him right about now. Because there were no good words to show him just how grateful she was and how deeply she was touched by his strange commitment.

Instead, she had to force herself to come up with something to say. Anything.

"Thank you," she muttered, and the words felt so horribly flat that she cringed a little. "I'm… honestly, I'm a little lost for words," she laughed a shy laughter, trying to veil her awkwardness. But he didn't even seem to notice.

"I will come back as soon as I can," he told her, his voice so very serious. She waited for his words, waited. She wanted to hear him say it one more time, the endearment. A joke at first; his stupid superficial flirting. But she wanted to hear it now. She needed to hear it.

She heard him laugh, suddenly, unexpectedly. Not a happy laugh. "We are kindred spirits, Bonnie Bennett. Who'd have thought…" he said, and she understood what he meant. Family issues, abandonment issues, friend issues. And no strangers to pain. Heaps of it...

"It appears we have a few things in common," she conceded, smiling a first small smile again. She let her hair fall down as she dipped her head a little, she was unaware of it, but it was what she always did when she was flirting on the phone.

"Aw, did I just hear you admit-"

"Don't ruin the moment, Enzo!" She warned him, but she was chuckling.

It was strangely quiet on the other end, the droning of the road the only thing she heard for a moment and she got worried that _she_ had ruined the moment already. But then she heard his voice again. Handsome, raspy, and that accent…

"I will always come back for you, love."

He'd said it...

Bonnie smiled.

…


	8. Of lockets and werewolf bites

_For Jade and Juno, and kpmindc, and spreadthepeace, and NeverHadAClue, and jannay, and all those I forgot! This is long and probably weird. Sometimes it's extra hard to translate the images in my head into actual words. This is almost made me want to post it as an actual story, but hey... I hope not too much got lost in the interstices here... Let me know what you think._

* * *

...

It had started with a slight raspy feeling in her throat. She'd thought it was because of all the singing she'd done - her way of killing time. She wouldn't have to tell Enzo that she hadn't touched the stupid guitar even once while he was gone. The strings just always hurt her fingertips and she had not been in the mood for that kind of pain.

So she had sung. And then her throat had started acting up and she'd downed a glass of lemony water with honey to soothe it. She'd fallen asleep in her bed, cuddled up under all the blankets because a sudden inner cold that had nothing to do with the winter outside had made her shiver.

When she'd woken up again, her nose had been stopped up, her head had felt like it was ready to explode, and she'd not even made the effort to try and get up till it was almost noon and her bladder demanded a break.

Bonnie crawled out of bed and slowly made her way to the bathroom. She felt dizzy and tired and every step hurt. Her limbs were so achy. Of course she'd end up with some type of bad cold or flu during her stay out here. Far away from any pharmacy or doctor, and not even Enzo there to take care of her.

Well, if she was honest, the latter was probably for the better. She'd have been too embarrassed to have him see her like this.

Once she was done, she washed her hands. It was a chore… She leaned heavily on the sink and stared at her dull reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair looked like a bird's nest. Her eyes had the sheen of fever, and her throat looked positively swollen. Great. Just great, she thought and decided to just hobble back over to the bed and try to sleep some more.

No. She grimaced. She'd at least have to put a fresh shirt on - and wash herself a little bit before doing so.

She was in the middle of cleaning herself up when she suddenly heard a car approach outside. It made an unmistakeable noise in the harsh snow that covered all the way to the cabin, and she was alert instantly - despite the state she was in.

She felt her pulse in her ears, an uncomfortable feeling, and she did her best to hurry and put a wide gray shirt on before the car stopped.

When it did, she was already by the door, the long gun in hand that Enzo had given her "in case of an emergency." She'd asked him what kind of emergency he'd imagined, but he'd only given her a look. She didn't expect him back till at least another few days, so who could it be? Alexandria? Had she found the hideout?

Would Bonnie stand a chance against the woman and her Armory soldiers? Probably not. Especially not in her current state. She felt her nose start to run, as if to remind her. She pressed her teeth together. She didn't even dare to sniff because every sound she made seemed magically enhanced and way louder than it should be.

She positioned herself so that she could look outside the window. She checked, then let herself fall against the door, relieved. It was his car. He was just early.

She slumped down on the couch and waited for him, ready to give him a lecture. Why hadn't he called her, or at least messaged her a quick word of warning that he'd be back earlier than expected.

He could have asked her whether and what he could bring. She'd craved oranges for the last two weeks, for example. But no…

* * *

…

When he still hadn't exited the car ten minutes later, she started to become suspicious. What the hell was going on? Was he, perhaps, not alone?

In her feverish head she decided it was safer to just walk out there and confront him - and whoever he might have brought, than wait inside, a sitting duck. So she donned her long overcoat, haphazardly wrapped her scarf around her neck, pulled a beanie over the mess that was her hair, and walked out, gun still at the ready.

"Enzo?" She called out. The snow ate half of her volume. The air was icy and so crisp that it made her nose tingle. "Enzo."

When she'd walked all the way over to his car, she finally caught a first glimpse of him through the windshield. He was leaning far back, staring at her, one hand clenched around the steering wheel as if he was holding on for dear life. She furrowed her brow and jerked her head as a form of question.

"What are you doing here?" She rounded the car and came to the door on the driver's side. She opened it with a mittened hand and it sprung toward her easily. She could hear him breathe then, but he still didn't say anything.

His breathing came in short labored bursts and she was instantly more alert, more worried.

Their gazes locked, his wide dark eyes held no explanation of what was going on, but he stared at her as if she was the one thing that kept him from succumbing to unconsciousness. His breathing normalized the tiniest bit, though it continued sounding rather erratic. "Don't pass out," she begged and his lips curled into the trace of a smile.

"You didn't get yourself shot again, did you?" Bonnie quietly scolded and half climbed into the car to see what she could do. He made a sound when she gently but firmly pried his one hand off the steering wheel, forcing him to relax the arm. A moan perhaps, a gasp, but other than that he showed no reaction.

"Because," she continued, forcing herself to keep her voice level and without worry, "we had a deal. This was not to become a regular occurrence."

This got a small pained chuckle out of him, more like a burst of air than anything.

She was trying to unbuckle him, which meant she was leaning half over him. She could feel the heat coming from him, a stark contrast to the air surrounding them. "Care to help me out a bit? I don't think I'll be able to carry you out of here…"

He jerked his head up the tiniest bit, a nod of sorts, but then he flinched and froze. Still no words, just another sound of pain. She frowned at him.

"Enzo. You're scaring me. What can I do? _Can_ I do anything?"

His jaw was clenched against whatever pain was raging in his body, but finally he managed to lift his right arm and he touched the collar of his jacket on the left side, just a flutter of his fingers. She followed his movement with her eyes, then looked at him again. A question remained unspoken before she pulled the fabric away and gasped in shock. He jerked away from her touch, turning to the side. She let go immediately.

"Who did that?" She asked and was afraid of the answer. " _What_?"

It almost looked like a large chunk of his lower neck was missing, the clavicle crushed. The skin around it looked raw and broken, muscle and sinew visible.

And were those… bitemarks?

"Please tell me this wasn't a werewolf," she breathed, unaware that there were tears starting to well in her eyes. He grimaced, his lips forming a pained line. The small expression was answer enough.

"Sorry love," he finally choked out, and she could see how much talking hurt him. She briefly thought of her own sore throat and almost chuckled. What stupid coincidence.

Of course fate would make it so that she'd have to take care of someone in bigger need just when she had been so ready for someone to take care of _her_. Someone to bring her milk with honey, and cough syrup, and sit by the side of her bed, holding her head, reading her a story, making sure she slept…

But no. Here fate sent Enzo back to her not to take care of her, but so that she could try and take care of _him_ once again.

For some reason, the thought wasn't as disappointing as it should have been.

She looked at him again, her brow furrowed with worry. She tried to smile for his sake as she saw actual fear in his eyes. Why hadn't his people - the Armory - brought him in to take care of this? Why was he here? How had he even made it out here without passing out? Again…

"I need you to help me, Enzo," she said sorrowful, "you need to try and get up, okay? We need to get you inside…"

He stared at her, she saw him try to work up some last remnant of strength and she heard herself cajole him, "You can do this, come on. Please…"

Together they managed to get him out somehow, and into a standing position, heavily leaning against the car, while she held him up from the other side. She was so close to him that his heat made the cold bearable for the first time since she'd gotten the flu.

She couldn't believe this was actually happening, but here she was, trying to get that strong man that usually towered over her to put his weight on her while she walked them over to the cabin.

What they must have looked like, had there been anyone to see them:

A tiny woman in thick winter clothes, wild brown curls escaping from under her beanie, while she had a much taller man's arm draped around her neck and dangling down so that she could hold onto it and to his side to try and keep him upright and get him to walk with her. His skin looked ghostly pale against her much warmer tone, but his hair was darker than the night.

Later, she'd have no actual recollection of how exactly they had made it into the small cabin, but they had. As soon as they stepped foot in it, his body slid out of her grasp and he slumped down on the floor. She could barely manage to soften the movement and have him stay seated against the wooden wall next to the door.

She sighed and gnawed on her lip. She felt a sob build inside of her. He couldn't die. He couldn't die now and leave her alone. Not when she'd finally allowed herself to start feeling something for him. To actually care about him.

She tried pulling him up, but he just stared at her, pleading wordlessly to stop.

"I can't get you up," she cried, losing all countenance. "I can't get you up…"

She slumped down right next to him, allowing him to see her swimming eyes. He lifted an arm, the one he could lift, and gently wiped her cheek, sorrow in his face. She rested her head against his for a moment, the flu catching up with her, making all this even harder. She started coughing and excused herself.

The cough raked through her body, and left her weaker. "I'm sorry. I caught a bug…" she said offhandedly. When she saw his worried expression, she started laughing.

"You're worried about me," she stated, flustered. Flattered. "You're actually worried about me. While you sit here, looking worse than I've ever looked in my life - and I've died a few times, so…"

"I bet... you always… looked… gorgeous…" he muttered, a small smile on his features that looked so out of place it was almost funny. If she hadn't been so worried about him…

She gave him a look. "Yeah. Right. Anyways." She coughed again, harder. "We need to do something about this." She pointed to his injury and he let his head drop, defeated. But then he patted the left side pocket of his jacket. She shot him a quizzical look as he took out a strange golden object and handed it to her.

It was a locket. She stared at it. Turned it over, looked at it. There was a sun embossed on its front, a half moon speared by something - rays of the sun perhaps? - on the back. She tried opening it, but the small lock mechanism didn't budge.

"Please tell me this is some secret cure for the bite of a werewolf," she said, only half joking. But when she looked back to him, his eyes were closed and his head had sunken down on his chest.

"Enzo?" She said, but she didn't expect a reply. She knew his body had finally given in to the looming unconsciousness, and deep down she was relieved. It was one thing to know someone had endured pain in the past. It was a whole different matter to actually witness that pain.

She got up abruptly. "I need to get something to… to take care of this- of you," she whispered affectionately, but of course he couldn't, wouldn't hear her, so she fell silent. She went on her way to the bathroom, hurriedly gathering whatever supplies she could find to treat and dress a wound like his.

Towels, latex gloves, antiseptic ointment, hydrogen peroxide's more potent - and more burning - cousin, antiseptic bandages. It would have to do. She ran back to him, or rather stumbled, her own fever not helping at all.

Carefully she pulled his jacket away, then his shirt. She cut away part of it to get better access to the maimed flesh underneath. She shivered and closed her eyes briefly. Then she struggled to get the gloves on. This was so not something she wanted to be doing. Her fingers busied themselves dabbing here and there, but she really didn't know what she was doing and when she scrutinized some object in the wound, she wondered whether she'd need to take it out. She literally gagged at the thought.

"Pull yourself together, Bonnie Bennett," she chided herself, and straightened her shoulders, taking a deep breath. Then, carefully, she touched the thing with one gloved finger and tried to pull.

Without warning, Enzo jolted up as if he'd gotten shocked, yelling in pain, before he slumped back against the wall.

A loud panicked scream escaped Bonnie before she got herself back under control. She held a soothing hand against his chest. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, staring into his now wide open eyes.

"That's my bone, love," he drily stated, and she swallowed hard.

"I'm… see, I'll make it worse. We need to get you to the Armory. I don't care if they lock me up, I can't have you die on me-"

"No," his voice was surprisingly vehement for a mere whisper. "No," he repeated, a little calmer, and she felt his hand on her arm. "They… don't care about me. What they… do… care about… is… the locket. It's…" he was out of breath, but desperate to get it all out before he'd pass out again. She tried to keep him from speaking but he shook his head, setting off his pain again and he had to collect himself. His breathing had picked up again. Too short, too shallow.

"Enzo, please try to stay calm-"

"Bonnie. There's… magic in this… locket. Powerful magic. It might… it belonged to a werewolf witch."

Bonnie raised her eyebrows. Now there were werewolf witches too? Geez. But she tried to concentrate on what he said. If the locket had belonged to a werewolf witch, did it have magic properties? Could it possibly help her heal Enzo?

He swallowed and stared at her. "Alex… really wanted this… and if I know anything, it's to not just give someone something they… so desperately want. Unless… they give you something… in return." His last word was just a breath, and Bonnie gently cupped his cheek.

"Okay," she said, smiling a little, but mostly frowning. "Okay. We'll… we will offer her the locket in return for the antidote," she concluded, but he shook his head again. Stop it, she wanted to yell when she saw the pain that it caused him, but she caught herself and just used her hands instead to still his movement. Her face was suddenly only an inch or two away from his.

His breath touched her lips, she was so close, like a warm caress. She shook her head, jolting herself back into the here and now.

"What then?" She wanted to know.

"Can't let her find you… can't… go anywhere, either," he gazed down at his body, defeated.

And then she finally understood. He was willing to die for her. He held everything he needed to get better in his hands, but he'd chosen to come here instead. To come here and die and protect her from the Armory.

Because if he'd let them take him in his current state, Alexandria would have had an easy time getting her much needed information out of him.

So he'd fled.

He'd done all of this to protect her. And he was still doing it.

Why then even mention the locket? Because he knew she was a witch. And even though currently unable to use her own magic, she could still use the magic of objects. Objects like the locket.

She just somehow had to try and learn what powers it held and how to express them…

She rolled her eyes. Easier thought then done. He'd wanted to protect her. He was willing to die for her. But she was not willing to accept that! He was not allowed to die. So she had to deal with the burden of trying to help him heal.

But first…

She still held his face in her hands, his gaze was on hers, his breath - so erratic but so alive - still warm against her lips. And then…

She kissed him, her lips gently on his, Bonnie Bennett kissed Lorenzo St. John. It was a salty kiss, first gentle, then harder. A feverish kiss, grateful before it became something else.

Passionate.

Until she heard him hiss out again in pain and she knew it was time to stop. So she did, she pulled away abruptly, still staring at him, the sheen in his eyes betraying the passion by being so obviously from a fever eating him up alive, but she accepted that, too. Because she'd felt passion in his response to her kiss. She'd felt it in those places that the fever couldn't ever override…

"I'm not gonna let you die, Lorenzo St. John," she said fiercely. "You just hang on now."

And he smiled at her weakly in return.

* * *

o … o

He was still lying on the floor by the door. She'd put a pillow under his head, and a blanket over his burning body. She'd built a fort around him, to keep any icy drafts from outside from getting to him.

She'd forced him to have one of the bloodbags he kept stored in the freezer. Just a small supply, because he never stayed too long. But he hadn't even been able to finish it.

She'd fought her own fever. The cough had gotten worse. She camped out sitting huddled against the wall, right next to where he slept an uneasy sleep and drifted in and out of consciousness. She kept trying out spells that she found through online research. She was waiting for a reply from some Wiccan she'd found through a random site dealing with all kinds of supernatural trinkets.

The locket had helped in so far as Enzo was still with her. He should have been dead by now and if she hadn't tried a couple of things she was sure he would have. He was close.

All his barriers were down. She'd never seen him like that. So vulnerable… It pained her. It also made her even more sympathetic. Affectionate.

In love.

Bonnie Bennett had realized that she was in love. With a man on death's door…

 _The locket seems to have healing powers, yes. But only to a certain extent. A lot depends on the "subject" you're trying to heal. Their strength, their tolerance to pain and injury._

The message popped up and forced her to concentrate on other things.

"I tried the spell you gave me," she messaged in reply, "can I do anything else?" She didn't mention she'd tried it a couple of times…

The reply tookonly a few minutes this time _. Nothing else you can do. If they're strong, they'll make it. Good luck._

Bonnie was ready to start crying. Absently, her hand was playing with his hair, when she suddenly heard him mutter, "I may not get the chance to say this if I don't do it now... I… apologize for the timing, or… if this is inappropriate… but... I love you, Bonnie Bennett. You're an amazing woman… fierce, strong... beautiful… and I love you."

He'd kept his eyes closed, he was that weak, but he'd needed to get those words out. He'd needed her to know.

Bonnie was speechless. For a moment, she was simply too stunned to say anything.

There had been a time when pretty much all they'd said to each other was banter, snarky comments, jest, often harmless, sometimes aimed to hurt. But there had always been those odd moments of absolute clarity, honesty. She remembered those moments where he'd stunned her with his soul baring comments. Admitting to things he'd probably not carried on his sleeve for anyone else to read.

Her face scrunched up. She looked at him for a long time, listened to him breathing. He'd already slipped back under.

"I love you, too, Enzo…" she muttered, and she buried her face against his chest, almost embarrassed, even though she didn't know why, and there was no one to witness her.

* * *

…

When he woke up, he found her cuddled up next to him, her head in the crook of his neck - the uninjured side… Her hair was sprawled out in a halo around her, her hands little fists resting against him. She was cocooned in a thin blanket, and she was shivering. He noticed that she must have given him the heaviest blanket, and he sighed, but with affection.

She felt hot against him and he remembered her talking about having caught the flu. He felt a sting. Poor Bonnie Bennett had done all this to try and help him, and she had fought her own sickness while doing so.

Some great gentleman material he was. He cringed inwardly, then tried to get up. It was not too late to remedy that, right?

He gently draped the bigger blanket around her, then picked her up off the ground and walked her over to the couch. He barely made it there before he felt ready to pass out again. He clenched his teeth against the sudden wave of nausea and vertigo and held on to the back of the couch for support.

It wasn't a very good start to taking care of her if she woke up to him laying in his own vomit on the ground, was it? He better got it together, and quick.

He wasn't dead. So that meant she had somehow managed to save him. He wouldn't have been able to even begin to describe his feelings at the thought.

He loved her, but somehow, even that didn't seem strong enough to express any of it.

She had been there for him. She had saved him, without there being any imminent use for her. She had saved him solely because… what? Was this, then, what it felt like to have someone love you back? Just for you? He didn't even dare go there. Because he wasn't ready to deal with false hopes.

Suddenly he remembered a kiss. Had it really happened? The memory felt all too real…

Enzo bit down hard, the vertigo had passed and he needed to get Bonnie something to drink; himself too. And because he had no idea what day it even was, he was dead certain he'd need to give Alex a call.

"The hell have you been?" She greeted him as he was sitting opposite a sleeping Bonnie in the sofa chair, legs on the coffee table, slouching. His neck, his whole left side still hurt like a bitch, and he wasn't even sure he could use his voice properly, but he had to pretend all was well.

"I'm touched by your concern, 'cousin'," he said, staring over at Bonnie, willing her to wake up. He was so tired of dealing with people that never had anything nice to say. "Where is the locket. You were supposed to bring it in four days ago."

Ouch. Four days ago?!

"It proved to be a little… tougher than expected. You should have maybe clued me in on the fact that a pack of werewolves guards your fancy talisman day and night. Then again, maybe you shouldn't have sent a vampire to retrieve a werewolf treasure to begin with." He was angry. She'd never given him what she'd promised. Instead he'd gotten the involvement in a shady "family" business and multiple injuries out of their "deal." But he knew he had to continue keeping up appearances and he couldn't let her find Bonnie. He needed to keep tabs on the Armory's every movement, and there was no better way than to stay in Alex's good books.

"But," he therefore allowed, "I got it. And I'll bring it over soon. Just give me another two days or so." Absentmindedly, he touched his neck and flinched. He'd be nowhere near healed in two days. But he'd have to go. Maybe he could make it a quick deal and come back here for a bit of respite.

For Bonnie…

"Two days?" She sounded suspicious and annoyed. But he didn't back down.

"Two days."

She grumbled something. But in the end, she agreed. When he hung up on her, his neck was on fire again, and his head pounding.

But at least Bonnie was slowly waking up and sleepily trying to get her bearings. She was adorable when she was confused.

"Hello, love," he said, his head leaning against the back of the chair. He wanted to be there for her, offer her a tea, anything. But he could consider himself lucky if he managed to stay conscious. Freaking werewolves.

"How did I…"

"Get on the couch?" He completed her question and smiled, lifting his chin a little. "I couldn't possibly leave you lying on the floor, now could I?"

He noticed her cheeks getting flushed and while he loved to see her a little embarrassed, it was undeserved and he needed to put a stop to it. "It was not meant as a stab at you, Bonnie. I was perfectly fine on the floor. And we both know I landed myself in that situation to begin with."

She looked at him from under her long lashes, as if to shield her gaze. She'd always been a bit of an open book to him, in a way, her feelings often visible right underneath the surface. Even though she'd gotten better at guarding them. A development that made him strangely sad.

"You are heavy, Lorenzo St. John," she told him, and he could still hear a trace of discomfort and regret.

"Are you telling me I should watch my diet and work out more? That I'm too fat?" he joked, and earned himself a glare. That was better.

"I wanted to take care of you for a little bit, as a thank you," he let her know, suddenly serious again, "but turns out that I can't even get up off this chair…" he grimaced. "I promise I'll try again in a moment…"

She smiled. "You can't just accept help, can you? Always have to act strong and pay anyone back who somehow-"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I just accepted your help not too long ago…" he pointed to his injury, narrowing his eyes as if to gage her.

"Because you didn't have a choice?"

"Because I didn't have a…" he trailed off, suddenly realizing what she'd meant. He raised his head a little, defyingly. She'd seen through him. "It may have started out as something different, but… I'm not ashamed to admit that you are all I have, Bonnie Bennett. And I can't let anything or anyone hurt you. Not even myself."

She looked at him intently. "So you'd rather die? You'd really rather die than-"

"Yes." It was that simple. "But I didn't, did I? Because of you…"

She got up. For a moment he was afraid she'd walk out on him, that he'd interpreted the situation wrong. But then she came closer to him, till she stood right in front of him.

And she sat down. On his lap. His eyes on her. He swallowed.

"I'm not sure you heard me last night," she muttered, and her hands were suddenly on his chest, busying themselves outlining what lay under the fabric. He raised his eyebrows, a wordless question. She smiled down on him as she leaned forward till her lips touched his. "I love you, Enzo…"

And there was no injury too great, no throat too sore for what followed, the exploring tongues and fingers… The gentlest lovemaking, awkward yet sensual, with all their ailments in the way, but not too in the way to stop them.

No pain had ever been as beautiful.


	9. Of socks and ice cold feet

_Thank you all so much. I'm so glad you liked the last one. It's my personal favorite and I'm definitely toying with the idea of using it as a starting point for something else... Anyways._

 _Juno, your comment before made me curious, about what this couple means to you personally... (but don't worry, no need to elaborate...)_

 _A little fluff coming up..._

* * *

They spent the next days laying down somewhere or other, mostly with their limbs entangled, their fingers entwined, or tracing each other's bodies.

It was intimate, sensual, passionate; it was cozy and felt reassuring, safe… Had it not been for varying degrees of pain, it would have been perfect.

As it was, Bonnie's flu was slowly ebbing away, and Enzo's broken skin and bones looked a little less gruesome with every new day, but they were both still not feeling exactly back to normal by the time the inevitable was more than just looming.

Enzo needed to go back to give Alexandria the locket.

He hadn't even noticed how torn up his shoulder still was, his neck, until he finally put some clothes back on after having spent two days mostly wearing nothing but a blanket - and a bandage…

It hurt to move his arm, it hurt to pull the fabric of his shirt over his head and try to get his arms into the sleeves. He hissed in pain, then gritted his teeth when he quickly got his left arm through the sleeve. The worst was over, he thought.

But it also hurt to bend down to put on some fresh boxers and a pair of pants. And gosh, did it hurt to try and put on some socks.

He gave up on that last one, it wasn't worth it. He'd just have to wear his shoes without socks. Nobody would notice. Nobody would care.

"You're not seriously going without socks, Enzo."

He looked up with a grimace and a grin, using his hands and arms to get enough leverage to get back off the edge of the bed he'd sat on.

"As a matter of fact I just decided that that's exactly what I am gonna do," he said and smiled at Bonnie.

With her arms on her hips in an exasperated stance, and a pout on her lips, she looked overwhelmingly adorable. With nothing on but her wide gray t-shirt that fell off one shoulder and allowed him a good view of the beginnings of her breasts, she looked _hot_. He cocked his head, taking her in. "You're gorgeous, love. I already regret having to do this, but it's time to bring this piece of metal to my dear 'cousin'," he said the last word mockingly, and rolled his eyes, never taking them off of her.

"And you were planning on doing that without socks." A statement. A glare.

He sighed. He'd hoped she'd let it go. "Not exactly 'planned', love, but yes, I was going to go without socks. Does it matter? I doubt the Armory will have a problem with me not wearing any. In fact, I doubt they'll even notice," he gave her a pointed look, "it's not like they care much about me to begin with, and they don't have any secret tests or security personnel that will not allow you in if you don't adhere to their dress code. So," he got up and slowly walked over to her, gently pulling her close to him, "as reluctant as I am, this is goodbye for now. I'll miss you, Bonnie Bennett…"

She was looking up at him, she was a good bit shorter than he was, and he could tell that she was balancing on her tip toes. Her frown still lined her forehead, but she gave him a kiss anyways, then pulled away from him a little. He eyed her warily. If he was being honest with himself - which he tried to avoid, there was still a part of him that couldn't believe any of this was true. He knew what kind of person she was and that she wasn't one to play with him and toss him away, but the scars on his soul were there and even if he knew all that, he was still guarded, he hadn't completely torn down his barriers, even with her.

He wasn't ready yet.

But all she did was lay a hand against his cheek and shake her head. "It's below freezing out there, Lorenzo St. John," she reminded him. "And I know you like to pretend you're strong and independent. But every once in a while it's really okay to accept some help, even if it's just with a stupid pair of socks."

He tried to grin, but grimaced. "You just can't let it go, Bonnie Bennett, can you?" He knocked against her head gently, but making a point nonetheless. "It's eating you up in there. That I didn't put socks on…"

She glared at him again and he laughed. He saw her frown dissolve and make room for a new expression, one he wasn't sure he'd seen before. It was his turn to frown, confused. "What?" he asked, feeling awkward. Like he hadn't caught on to something rather obvious.

Bonnie's free hand touched his neck carefully, very close to his injury, yet far enough away to not cause him additional pain. The light movement of her fingers was a soft caress that made him tingle.

"You have the most beautiful laugh, Enzo," she whispered, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh. Really truly laugh. From the heart. Like you just did now," she told him, an awe in her eyes that made him feel slightly awkward, and very much like the luckiest person in the whole world, "I hope I'll hear more of it…"

He smiled down on her, then kissed her, soft skin against soft skin.

"And now let me help you put these on already!" she suddenly commanded, pointing at the obnoxious socks and he threw his head back in a show of annoyance and defeat and said, "Alright. If it makes you feel better."

"It does," she smiled. "I can't stand the thought of your feet all cold and frozen while you're out there dealing with lockets and remote cousins and shady people."

She gave his hand a squeeze, reassuring, then got down on her knees. "Let's do it," she said, sock in hand, and he leaned forward suddenly, pulling her with him despite the screaming protests of his body and said, "One last time before I really have to go…"

She giggled only momentarily, before committing herself to something else entirely, taking off the clothes he'd so painfully put on just minutes before...

* * *

…

Hours later, he stood in front of Alex St. John, the woman that shared his last name and _that_ couldn't have been a bigger disappointment to someone like him, who'd desperately wanted nothing but a family of his own. He clenched his teeth, fighting those thoughts.

His bare feet were like ice in his shoes.

He closed his eyes briefly, trying to concentrate on Bonnie rather than on Alex; the memory of Bonnie's body moving lithely on top of his, making both of them forget everything around them, including their pain. Including the socks.

"Took you long enough," Alex was saying. He felt her scrutinizing gaze on him. He was quite certain that she'd caught on to the fact that he'd gotten hurt during his hunt for the locket, and he could tell she was contemplating on how best to bring it up.

"Here you have it," he tossed her the small object, which she caught easily, "If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way now." He shot her a glance, then turned around on the spot, starting to swagger back to the door.

"Wait." He stopped without turning back around. He inclined his head the smallest bit to show that he was listening to whatever she had to say.

"What happened out there? Did they get to you?"

"Who."

"You know who." She sounded annoyed, but he wanted her to acknowledge it. To say it. "The werewolves," she allowed, her voice quieter now.

"Just a scratch," he said, smiling to himself.

"Not a bite then? Because if you got bitten, you'll need the antidote, you know that. Let's take a look and patch you up-"

He turned around abruptly, hands raised slightly. "I appreciate the concern, Alex," he spat her name out like a swear word, "but I'm fine. No thanks to you, might I add. Now let me go, if you need me for another treasure hunt, you know how to reach me." He waved at her, a cocky gesture, and he saw her features scrunch up into an angry expression.

"I could lock you up, Enzo-"

"I don't think so."

"Who helped you? Was it the werewolf witch?"

He grinned at her, but didn't grace her with a reply. She could fish in the dark for however long she wanted.

"It was the Bennett witch." Alex concluded and he had to give everything to not slip up now, no flinch, no wrong huff or scoff or too rash movement of his body, or flicker of his lids. And especially not a word. She'd be able to see through him if he so much as showed a single reaction. So he remained completely frozen.

Just like his feet.

He thought of ice. Snow. Cold… he remembered experiments long past. Standing naked in a freezer, his blood frozen inside of him. And then… thawing.

"You may go now. I'll call you." Alexandria's words jolted him back from wherever he'd just gone. He blinked, nothing more, then finally walked out the door.

He had no idea whether she had tried to ask him any more questions, for suddenly there had only been ice.

* * *

…

When he got back to the cabin, morning was already dawning. He knew he probably shouldn't have come back there so quickly. But he'd made sure his car wasn't bugged and he'd switched to another one again anyways. A habit he'd gotten into to protect Bonnie.

She was probably still asleep and he didn't want to wake her so he briefly thought of waiting in the car, but then he noticed a small light come on inside and he sighed. He'd woken her up.

The door opened at the same time he got out of the car. He leaned against it briefly, closing the door that way and looking at her.

She was an apparition. The light of the cabin gave her a halo, and even from a distance he could see the spark in her eyes, the sheen of her beautiful soft skin. He remembered what it felt like.

"You're early," she said, walking toward him.

"I'm late." He was by her side before she could take another breath. He swooped her up and carried her all the way back into the cabin.

"You forgot your socks after all," she mumbled between kisses and he shushed her. His hands were already wandering down her body, his mind busy with shedding clothes rather than putting them on.

He kissed her, nibbled on her neck without grazing her skin, and he felt himself stiffen when she made the smallest moaning sound.

"You're so cold," she muttered, worry stealing itself into her voice, but he just murmured against her skin, "Don't talk, love…"

And she didn't. She just let him have his way with her, let him trace his way down her body, his lips, his tongue caressing her, until…

He found the perfect spot and he felt her arch her back to meet him.

And soon after there was only heat, and sweat, and salt. And their writhing bodies shining in the fire burning in the fireplace...


	10. Pale surfer

_This one is for Juno. Thank you for sharing! I'm so happy to hear things have turned around for you. And I hope they'll continue to do so. :) What you said made me love Bonenzo even more. They had a true impact on your life, and it's awesome!_

 _Anyways. I might post something else soon, i can't get that other thing out of my head, but we shall see. Thank you all for reading. For now, this:_

* * *

...

Bonnie had been upset when Damon had desiccated. And she had been upset when he was suddenly back - brought back by his brother, who needed his help. And somehow she had always only been an afterthought. Not important enough for a goodbye in person, not important enough to let her know he was going to be brought back. And most definitely not important enough to be the leading character in the story that was clearly never about her life, just theirs.

With a sigh, she got out of the car that Enzo had already exited. He wasn't even waiting for her, just went straight over to the cabin. A telling move. She sighed.

They had argued with Damon earlier. Damon had threatened Enzo, told him he'd messed up by giving Bonnie the pills that might (would?) cause her death. They had done their little vampire spiel, getting in each other's faces, like a dance of aggression.

Of course she'd defended Enzo. How could she not? He'd been there for her, he'd made her his priority while Damon was only back because of Stefan. It hadn't been his choice to come back, and it had nothing to do with her, while everything Enzo had been doing had been for her.

She quickly ran after him, in time to see him slouch down on the couch, shoulders hanging, eyes trained on the window. Looking anywhere but at her.

"Enzo," she called him.

"He's right, you know, it's my fault. Everything I've done-"

"No," she vehemently disagreed and walked around to sit down next to him. She looked at him, strangely afraid to touch him. "He is not right. He-"

"Is worried about you, Bonnie. You're his best friend and he knows I screwed up."

"He has no right to be worried. He forfeited that right when he decided desiccating was the better way to spend the next sixty years of his life, rather than be there for me while I outlive mine. He didn't want to see me again while I was alive. He made a choice, Enzo."

He smiled, but it was not a happy expression at all. "It's what I told him…" he said, and finally he looked at her. "He made a choice, while I… made a horrible mistake."

"We live and we learn," she tried, but he just made a face at her.

"I'd rather not make you part of that process, love. I'm so sorry I put you through all this. If I had done a little more research before giving you Rayna's blood…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. She put a hand on his arm, a soft touch, and he looked down on it, then at her.

"I'll fix this, Bonnie. I promise I'll fix this."

She smiled. "I know," she whispered, though she didn't. She was not sure she'd survive all this, but she was very sure that Enzo would put everything into trying to make it alright. And that was enough for her.

"First things first,"'she whispered, her hand slowly trailing further up till she got to his neck, his face, his lips. "I think I could really use some distraction. Do you think you could help me with that?"

She didn't leave room for interpretation when she determinedly grabbed his hand and placed it where she most needed it, between her legs. No preamble. His eyes widened, and a small curl formed his lips into a happier expression.

"Are you sure?" He asked, his touch so gentle, so careful. He didn't want to hurt her.

"Very," was all she managed, as his hand had already started to move in a slow rhythm.

"Well then… I think I could do that…"

And for a while they both forgot all about Rayna, Damon, anti-magic pills, and bad repercussions.

For a beautiful perfect moment, it was just them again.

* * *

…

When the afterglow had subsided and they both lay curled up on the couch together, Enzo very careful so as not to aggravate her lesions, they daydreamed together for a little moment longer.

Bonnie wished she wouldn't ever have to wake up out of this perfection again. But of course she knew Rayna was waiting, and more evil vampires needed to be checked off a list and so on and so forth.

She had just made an offhand remark about always playing second fiddle even in her own life, the chase after Rayna's vampires overshadowing everything else, when Enzo suddenly raised himself up on one arm to look at her.

"You do know, love, that all your friends are currently out there killing off bad guys to appease Rayna Cruz, right? Stefan and Alaric put their awkward little rivalry behind them for the time being, Caroline is doing her part, and Damon is busting his ass to get even the last name scratched off the list."

She gave him a look when he said the older Salvatore's name, but he stared her down. She felt a smile creep onto her face. She'd never quite understand it, but despite everything, they both had the strangest friendship with Damon.

That didn't mean she was ready to let the man off the hook just yet. But she had to admit that Enzo had a point. Damon was going a mile a minute to help her out, risking his own health and life while doing so. Deep down she knew he regretted his earlier decision, and he wasn't just doing all this to appease Elena when she woke up. He was doing it for Bonnie.

She sighed.

"I'll have to forgive him, don't I?" She said, her hand absently stroking his naked chest. And she felt his voice reverberate under her touch when he replied.

"If you don't want to do it for him, do it for yourself, love."

"I know, I know. It's how he is, who he is. Mental anguish over his actions is just not worth it, right?" He smiled as she repeated some of his earlier words to him. "If only it was that easy. I… ugh, please, Enzo, save me from myself, give me something else to think about."

Both their gazes fell on the lesion on her hand at that very moment and there was a brief pause in which neither of them said anything. Bonnie was trying to mentally prepare herself for another, worse topic, when Enzo suddenly said, "Have you ever gone surfing?"

She looked at him, puzzled, "Have I… what?!" This was a question she'd not been expecting. She slowly sat up, and the blanket they'd loosely draped over themselves fell off the couch as her legs found the floor.

Enzo didn't seem to have a problem with suddenly being exposed to her gaze and she smiled at his confidence. "Surfing," he was saying, letting her take him in before he, too, sat up right next to her, naked body touching naked body. "You know, the ocean, waves, a surfboard."

She frowned. "No. Can't say that I did. Have you?"

Instead of directly answering her question he feigned shock at her confession. "Well, we better remedy that, then. Bonnie Bennett, pack a bag - make sure you bring swimwear,"

"Swimwear, eh?" she teased him, "Don't you mean a bikini?" She wiggled her eyebrows at him as suggestively as she could, which just earned her a laugh.

"Is that supposed to be your best seductive impression? Because to be honest, I think I've seen better."

She slapped him playfully. "You're not supposed to say something like that to your girlfriend," she informed him while she started putting some clothes on, "But anyways. I never pictured you as the type to go surfing…"

It was his turn to give her a look. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't think my pasty complexion and dark hair adhere to the typical surfer stereotype?"

She laughed, a full blown laugh that made him happier than anything.

"I wouldn't call you pasty, just-"

"Just what?" He interrupted her, curious now, and he turned her half clothed body toward him, cupping her chin, making her look at him. He was still stark naked and an appreciative hiss escaped her that she tried to stifle by biting down on her lower lip.

"Just…" she tried to concentrate on their little banter, but it was getting more difficult by the second. He was drawing a line down her collar, to her sternum, further down.

"Just?"

"Pale," she muttered, and his finger stopped a little shy of her pantyline.

He nodded, then pulled her closer. "I'm a pale surfer then."

She slung her arms around his neck, and smiled up to him. " _My_ pale surfer… what else don't I know about you, yet?"

"You'd be surprised…" He raised his eyebrows briefly, then dipped a finger down under the elastic of her panties. The next explanation was completely without words…

* * *

…

It was way after. After Rayna Cruz was dead, after Bonnie was healed up, after the sirens had taken Damon and Enzo, after everything.

It was Enzo's bucket list day, the day she'd insisted he needed, and a top priority on his list had been this:

Moonlight surfing. With her. Of course she'd protested. "The ocean is too dark and too scary at night. You can't see anything out there."

"That's half of the fun, love," he'd argued.

She had never surfed in her life before. She still couldn't quite grasp the fact that he had. Granted, he didn't tell her that it had been decades since last he'd gone out on a board. But it didn't matter.

They started the day super early. They were at the beach by four. Dawn was still far enough away, and the moon full enough to provide them with some extra light. Not that he needed it, his night vision was nigh on perfect. But she was relieved to find that it wasn't as pitch black as she'd feared.

"I'm not comfortable with this," she'd whined, once she was already out with her feet in the water, board awkwardly held in her arms.

Of course he'd just smiled at her and pointed out that she had insisted on this day and that this was part of the list. "Come on, Bonnie, it'll be fun!" He'd called out against the waves and it turned out to be true.

She didn't get much actual surfing in, but he showed her how to do it, how to stand up and balance her weight, how to dive under a wave and not let it crush her. And when her lesson was over and the sky tinted a little more blue rather than black, they both sat on their boards for a little while longer, bobbing on the waves, laughing, and yelling ridiculous confessions for no one else to hear.

Because that had also been on his bucket list: scream out to the world how he felt about Bonnie Bennett.

"I love you, Bonnie Bennett!" He yelled, and she broke out laughing when he cajoled her on with a jerk of the head.

"Come on, love, try it out, it feels liberating."

And he was right.

She smiled, her body glittering with water and the last light of the moon. It was the perfect moment. Time stood still…

She looked at him, smiling. Then she yelled.

"I love you, Lorenzo St. John!"

...


	11. Dear Elena

_Juno: no worries. I'll keep this one going. Updates might just be a bit more sporadic. I might also go back and forth a little bit in time, and I'm still uncertain whether I want to stay close to canon or deviate a bit and give them a happier ending..._

 _Also, if anyone has a prompt or an idea that they'd have liked to see on the show, I'd love to hear it. Maybe I can work something in here._

 _Anyways. Sorry if this one is too weird and wistful. It just kinda... happened that way._

* * *

...

"Oh my gosh, okay, I have a confession," she started without the usual preamble, her words more of a stream-of-consciousness than a diary entry, "I'm in love with Enzo. Yes, Damon's Enzo. The man who threatened you all, who almost killed your brother, and who was - very awkwardly, might I add - pining for Lily Salvatore for way too long. _That_ Enzo. Except, now he's _my_ Enzo."

She paused briefly, allowed the pen to rest on the paper as she stared at her words. It felt good to write it all down, finally.

"You know, for the longest time I was so afraid you'd judge me for it. I mean, I know I wouldn't actually have to live with that, since I'll be dead by the time you'll awaken, but still. It doesn't exactly feel very good to think you'd come back to only be disappointed in me, or worse, hate me.

But then Damon was kind enough to point out that you chose _him -_ who arguably did way worse things to you and your family than Enzo ever did - to be your boyfriend. You know how convincing he can be... So yeah, here I sit, finally writing this all out, because I promised to keep you in the loop about my life.

You're my best friend, Elena. And I want to believe that you'll understand me after you've finished reading all this.

…

Enzo really is not a bad man. The strange thing is, I guess I always knew that, deep down. Remember when I was the Anchor? Gosh, how he got on my nerves when he showed up dead, harassing me. But it's easy to look past that and spot the real him underneath. It took me a while - and some temporal distance - to see it, but he was just so very angry and so very afraid back then.

He was so broken and lonely. The memory is hard for me, because the me-now regrets that I didn't see it back then and that I didn't treat him differently.

There was an incident, I don't think I ever told you about it, because, frankly, it's pretty embarrassing…

I was getting ready for class, and I mean, getting ready after having just woken up, and I was in the shower, singing to myself and shaving my legs and all that, and then I got out - and you know how the towels were always so far away that we put them right next to us on the toilet so that we wouldn't have to cross the room all wet and naked? How could one ever forget that, right? Anyways. So I was stepping out of the shower and ready to grab the stupid towel, only to find out that I had forgotten to put it there.

So I had to wade across the stupid cold tiles to get it off its hook, and of course he'd suddenly pop up out of thin air right at that very moment to see me in all my naked glory.

Needless to say, I was pretty mortified. Even though of course I knew he was technically dead and that it really didn't matter.

I was prepared to never hear the end of that, to have him comment on my embarrassing little butterfly tattoo that no one besides you even knows about because I always keep it hidden. I was prepared for a slew of cheeky comments or a lame come on.

But I wasn't prepared for his cute - yes, even back then when I still loathed him it was adorably cute - embarrassment. He actually excused himself with an "I'm so sorry," then turned on his heel and stared at the corner till I had wrapped myself up.

I don't remember what I said to him, just that it wasn't exactly nice. (I do feel bad about that now, too, though he assured me there's no need. And yes, that means we actually talked about it, later. Geez, aren't we too drippingly sweet.)"

She drew a smiley there, old style, and it only further outlined her embarrassment at telling Elena about her love story. She shook her head. Maybe she'd have to tear out the pages after all and rewrite everything. Or leave it at a quick _Just so you know, while you were sleeping, Enzo St. John and I hooked up, and it was glorious_.

"Anyways," she continued, the pen sliding easily across the paper, "it was my first clue to the fact that there's a sweet soul hiding under his dark exterior. And maybe it was the reason why I held onto him later, when the Other Side collapsed and oblivion was pulling at us all.

I could have let go, you know, but I didn't. I couldn't. Because deep down, I knew that he was worth saving. That he had been a victim of circumstances more than anything. And I do believe that insight helped me see the good in Damon too. After… in the prison world.

So, yeah, here we are now, years later, and we're happy together, as happy as you and Damon were - and will be again. I get it now, Elena. I finally understand. There's light even in darkness, good even in bad, and mostly, it's in our hands to shape that.

I just wish we could have all been happy together. You and Damon and Enzo and I. I wish we could have gone on awkward double dates together, could have seen each other dance at our weddings…"

"Are you alright, love?" Enzo had walked up to her so quietly that she startled. She had been deep in thought, tears threatening to fall when she'd heard his voice.

She felt his hand on her shoulder and suddenly grabbed his arm fiercely, turning around to face him. He looked at her with so much love and concern, it made her heart ache.

She stood up abruptly, half throwing herself at him and into his warm embrace.

"Now I am," she whispered, and she clung to him, sighing as he gently stroked her hair, her back.

"Can I do anything?"

"Ach," she made, awkwardly laughing before she pulled away a little to look at him and allow him to wipe away her tears. "Just that stupid diary. I just miss Elena right now. I was trying to tell her about us-"

He cocked his head, smirking, "That bad, huh? One would think you've been writing a tragedy."

She slapped him lightly. "No, it's just… very emotional. I'm…," she sobered, "I've just never been this happy and I wish Elena could have been happy _with_ me…"

He didn't try to say anything, to tell her it was going to be alright, or that Elena would still somehow be happy with her, for her. He did the only right thing and remained completely silent, pulling her into him once more and allowing her to cry.

And she loved him even more for it.

...


	12. It's getting hot out here

_Fair warning: this is a bit more than a T-Rating... I'm not that great at writing smut, but hey, you gotta at least try every once in a while, right? Let me know how bad it is! Anyways; thanks Guest: I'll keep going, though chapters come sporadically and most likely not chronologically. We shall see._

* * *

 _Bonnie. My time. You loved me more than anyone. That's enough_.

* * *

...

The day Bonnie brought Enzo back from the precipice and made him turn his humanity back on was also the day the cabin burned.

She didn't even know why she chose fire, but here they sit and watch as the flames consume everything.

"I almost killed you," Enzo said, and there was a hint of devastation in his tone.

"I'm still here," she told him, reassuringly, "Look at me. You're okay now. You're okay. And you're stuck with me forever. 'Cause I'm never leaving."

And she meant it. She wasn't going anywhere without him.

They sat for what seemed like forever, just staring into the fire, holding each other, clinging to each other like two survivors on a lifeboat. Of course there had never been a chance to save the cabin, but eventually Bonnie felt like she had to at least try to make the fire stop before nothing was left of their safe house, their refuge.

When all fire was burnt out, just a little ember left in the destroyed brittle black walls, they finally stood up, ready to leave.

"I'll miss this place," Bonnie said wistfully, braiding her arm through his, allowing him to pull her closer to his side, till she could lean against him. A painful cough shook her then, and Enzo looked at her with concern. "I'll be fine," she said, cupping her mouth and coughing again, but she saw him prick his wrist anyways and offering it to her to drink.

"I was ready to die, love. I meant what I said, your love is enough for me," Enzo muttered and looked down on her with an affectionate smile, "it's not _your_ time, yet, though. And it won't be for a very long while. So please drink. Because I couldn't bear for you to suffer because of me. - Or worse…"

She smiled back at him, putting a hand against his chest, "Okay," she allowed, then carefully took his hand, his arm, guided it to her lips, and drank.

Her lips on his warm skin made her tingle, and before she knew it, he had whirled her around and kissed her so passionately that she was glad he was holding a hand against the back of her neck, basically holding her up. Because her legs felt like wax, ready to just melt away.

She felt his tongue explore her mouth, thrusting forward, and she used her own to dance with his, tracing his movements, tracing his teeth. Gently she bit his lip, then ever more demanding.

His hands traveled up, suddenly under her clothes, and she gasped when he expertly unclasped her bra, cupping her breast in his warm grip.

They were still in the wide open space outside, the smoke from the cabin lingering in the air they breathed, but she didn't care. Neither did he.

It was not exactly warm, but the heat from the dying fire and their passionate love made them both oblivious to it.

Suddenly all Bonnie wanted to do was crawl inside of him, be one, just his skin on hers not enough anymore. She wanted to never be separated from him again.

She busied herself trying to open his belt, and when her nervous fingers just couldn't seem to get it done, she looked up at him, exasperatedly, "Geez, what is wrong with this thing?" she asked, and he laughed at her, a warm sincerely amused laugh, but he helped her out and just pulled the belt away and let it drop to the floor by her feet.

"That's so much better," she murmured with her mouth against his neck, then her hands made good use of the way better access and she gently caressed him, touched him, and then gripped him, hard, before shimmying out of her own clothes.

"We can go to the car," he whispered, sounding hushed and out of breath, but she shook her head. She needed him now.

Here.

Suddenly, she was stark naked and shivering, both excited by being so exposed and a little intimidated. What if someone came by?

But no one had ever done that in over three years, so why would they be starting now? She nervously giggled to herself and he cocked his head, a slight frown tainting his smile. "What's so funny?" He asked, and she shyly looked at him from under her lashes.

"Just… us, out here. We almost died in there, you were almost lost to me, and now…"

"You are ready to be ravaged by me? Your dark vampire that's going to have his way with his girl?" she asked, making her smile become heated.

"Uh huh," was all she could say, before she felt herself being swooped up and she put her legs around him, straddling him as he gently laid her down on their discarded clothes. He stared at her for a long moment, making her shiver, her nipples perking up even more, even before he touched her there, again, twirling them between his fingers, then laying his mouth above first one, then the other, sucking and pulling.

She moaned, arching her back to meet him, but he was already traveling further down, not before she'd gotten a good look at his erection.

"I want you inside of me," she moaned, her voice raspy with anticipation, but he shook his head briefly, "Not yet, love. Let me see you first. Let me taste you."

"Argh," she made, but she was enjoying it. His attention to detail, his strong arms coming up over her stomach, just as his mouth traveled further down, licking, kissing. She grabbed his wrists, his hands, guiding them to her breasts, and she hissed out when he rubbed her nipples, and started kneading, just as his tongue licked her length further down.

"Oh my god," she moaned, almost angry at her body, because she knew she was not gonna last long. She was so starved for this. She needed this so much. "Come inside me, please," she begged, but he was still just licking, nibbling, circling her clit, once, twice, so achingly painfully slow.

"Harder," she whispered, but he continued his pace, it was almost agonizing. Her clit was tingling, burning, his tongue barely grazing its sides, and she needed him there, right there, she needed him to fill the void inside of her. "Please," she begged, and she grabbed his head with both her hands, pushing. Briefly she saw him emerge, a wide hot smile on his face, a turned on flush painting his usually pale cheeks the tiniest bit. Then he dove under again, between her legs, and she felt him insert a finger, then two, then one very close to her behind and she gasped when she realized what he was about to do.

One long arm was still coming up by her side, and while one hand was busy further down, the other was playing with her nipples, twisting them harder now, pinching, rolling, and she was so close, _so_ close.

He licked her whole length again, his tongue finally, _finally_ where she needed it most, and the tingling turned into something unbearable as he did it again, and again, and…

She pushed her pelvis up into the air, to feel the pressure where she needed it, and then a sudden release washed over her in waves until she was completely spent. But his tongue was still flicking at her. One more time. Another, and she started giggling and pushing at him, saying "stop stop stop!" and he came up to look at her, grinning wide.

"You are gorgeous, Bonnie Bennett," he rasped, and she felt shy all over again in her postcoital awkwardness, but before she could say anything, he gripped her legs, pushed them open a little more, positioning himself, and with a silent question in his eyes that she answered with an eager nod, he entered her, his length filling her, touching even the last parts of her that had needed release. "Fuck me," she ordered, suddenly bold again, "hard!"

And his pace picked up until they found a rhythm together. Then she pushed herself up, repositioning, and let him take her from behind, one of his hands on her ass, the other on her breast, his mouth against her neck, and when eventually he came, too, she felt a prick as he bit down and she gasped.

When all was over, they tumbled down in a heap, clutching each other, spent, but so very content. So happy.

…

Later, in the car, he apologized for biting her. "I got carried away a little," he told her awkwardly, a little ashamed, and their gazes met.

She merely smiled at him. "I thought it was pretty hot, actually," she said and kissed his cheek while one hand absently touched the place on her neck where his teeth had sunk into her

And he knew it was true when he saw the gleam in her eyes.

This woman truly was enough.

More than.

And he was the happiest, luckiest man alive.

This, then, was his time.

 _This_.


	13. Of TV shows

_This is just a bit of - potentially pointless and maybe even boring - fluff. But I had to get it out into writing and might as well share it here, too. It's a bit of a non-sequitur, but seeing as this is not exactly a linear story or anything, I bet no one will mind._

 _Anyways, thanks to anyone reading, and everyone reviewing._

* * *

...

"Eeekh!" Bonnie squealed, panicked, and hid in Enzo's warm embrace, clutching him, pressing her head into his chest as he chuckled, holding her tight.

They were sitting on the couch together, Bonnie snuggled into a blanket, a half empty box of tissues by her side, a still steaming cup of freshly made tea on the table in front of her. She was nursing another cold and what best to do than be sick in style and start a binge watch marathon of one of her shows.

"I thought you had seen this before," Enzo muttered, smiling against her ear, clearly amused by her reactions, and she nudged him lightly.

"It's still scary."

"It's just a TV show…"

"Still!"

He knew not to argue with her. And while he continued just holding her, he remembered a time when they had first talked about TV, back when they had still been in the cabin together…

* * *

...

When Enzo came back to the cabin after a particularly draining week, he was half expecting Bonnie to give him flack for being so late and for having forgotten to bring her a heavier blanket like she'd asked him to. He was ready to let the accusations rain all over him.

What he did not expect, however, was to find her sitting huddled up in front of her laptop, crying.

Startled by his sudden appearance, Bonnie quickly wiped her face and closed the laptop, glowering at him defensively.

"You're back," she said, wiping her eyes again.

Alarmed, he frowned at her. "What happened, love?"

He'd dropped his bag on the kitchen counter and was now on his way over to her, but he kept his distance when her piercing stare hit him again.

"It's nothing," she said, "So, did you bring me the-

"Blanket? I'm afraid not. But I'll get one first thing tomorrow."

She merely nodded absently, and he cocked his head, scrutinizing her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Suddenly she laughed. "Yes, thank you. I'm okay. Really."

He must have looked rather worried, for she stood up, hugging herself, and repeated, "It's really nothing."

"If you say so…"

"Can we… can we just get some dinner going and review what I found out so far?"

"Of course," he said, allowing her to steer them into a different direction, and he noticed her sigh in relief, ever so slightly.

…

Later, when they had eaten together and talked about all of Bonnie's findings, they eventually grew quiet.

He smiled at her as she watched him swirl his wine around.

"So what was that all about, earlier?" He asked, and she grimaced. "Can I do anything for you?"

"It's… someone died, okay, but it's not actually a big deal, and-"

"I'm so sorry." He was shocked, and sad for her. He knew his words meant nothing, but he didn't know how to deal with loss at all, how to address it, or how to talk to someone grieving. "Do you need to… make any calls? Arrange a funeral? If you need anything…"

She surprised him by chuckling and looking at him a little uncomfortably. With a sigh she said, "Alright, I'll never live this down, but I can't in good conscience let you believe that this is anything other than what it is: I cried over the death of a TV character. There." She looked at him, gauging his reaction.

What she saw was confusion.

She raised her eyebrows. "You do know about TV right? They didn't keep that from you, did they? I mean, you've been out for a while now so even if they had kept it from you, I'm sure you've caught on to the existence of TV shows by now?"

He jolted out of his musings and made a face. "Of course," he simply said, "I'm just a little… intrigued that the 'death' of a fictional character would get to someone like you so much."

It was her turn to frown, but there was annoyance mixed into her expression. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He clicked his tongue, raising his chin. "You didn't strike me as someone who'd care much about something that isn't real. But I guess I shouldn't have made such an assumption. You _are_ full of emotions, Bonnie Bennett…"

"You think I'm being ridiculous," she huffed, clearly annoyed.

"I think you are a compassionate, empathetic woman," he countered, smiling at her, and drinking another sip of his wine as she gave him a look, bewildered and unsure of what to make of him.

For a while neither of them said anything. They simply drank their glasses of wine in silence, looking at each other, Bonnie with a glare, Enzo with a smile.

"You're gonna use this against me," she eventually broke the quiet and raised her head, defiantly, her pout the most adorable thing he'd seen in a while.

She was so different than the other women he'd known in his life. Different than any of his flings. Different than Lily. Or even Maggie…

"You must think I'm a horrible person," he concluded, the realization actually stinging.

"I…," she began, but left her sentence unfinished.

"Relax, Bonnie, I'm not gonna use you crying over a TV show against you. I wouldn't even know how. Or why," he said with a wide gesture of his arms. He sighed resignedly as he got up to go over to the sink and deposit his glass there.

Her sudden giggle startled him. He swung around, cocking his head and giving her a curious look. "I'm glad you found something to better your mood," he mumbled, and she forced herself to stop giggling.

"I'm sorry," she said, not quite successful, "I just… I just think it's funny that I'm sitting here - with _you_ \- and we are talking about my awkward habit of crying over TV shows. And that for some reason I thought, I don't know, that you'd go shouting it from the rooftops. But, I mean, who would even care. I'm…," she had another fit of the giggles that he watched with exasperated consternation, before she could continue, "gosh, I'm so pathetic. I'm sorry. Being stuck and having gone stir crazy has done a number on me or something. I'm not normally this self-involved. And why am I even telling you this? Why am I apologizing to you of all people?!"

"Because you've started to like me," he suddenly noticed, looking at her with a winning smile, and her cheeks flushed a little more.

"I'm… I might…," she raised a finger, pausing, "excuse me," she then said and rushed up and over to the bathroom. "I really need to-"

He chuckled to himself as he heard her quietly mumble to herself and he caught her saying, "Stupid stupid wine. Oh my gosh, I should have never agreed to having a glass… please please, shut up already, Bonnie."

But when she came back, pretending all was completely normal, even drinking another sip of her wine, making a sour face when she seemed to notice what she was doing, he just sat back down and looked at her.

"What?" She made, shoulders hunched up, one hand clinging to the glass on the table as if it grounded her.

"I'm just… enjoying you, Bonnie Bennett," he admitted, and she almost choked on the sip she had just taken.

"You're enjoying me?"

She expected another cocky, snarky, or outright funny remark, but he startled her when he quietly said with an earnest voice, "You are marvelous, love. So honest, true. Full of emotions without the bat shit crazy that usually seems to come with that. It's… nice."

"Nice…" she parroted, flustered, unsure of what to say or think, and this time, he didn't make it easier for her.

He simply nodded, then said, "Who knows, maybe one day, you can show me what's so riveting about TV and we can watch something together."

"You know what they say: be careful what you wish for, you might get it." She chuckled, suddenly strangely nervous.

"I'm ready."

And as he smiled at her somewhat wistfully, she eventually just smiled back.

...


	14. From the ashes

_A bit of a warning for this one: it's different in that it's less fluffy. I could have posted it as a one-shot, I guess, but it kinda goes here._

 _This is, after all, a collection revolving in one way or another around Benzo and the cabin. :)_

 _Anyways. Here it is._

* * *

...

After her world ended, lying in blackened ruins just like their cabin, Bonnie found herself staying away more and more from Damon and Elena.

While she loved her friends and was happy for them, there was just something about their happiness together that she found hard to deal with. They were so happy, while Bonnie had, yet again, had to sacrifice everything.

 _Everything_.

And she was tired of it, so very tired.

She knew Damon was hurting, too. Despite the fact that the love of his life was back with him, he had his own grief to deal with since his brother's death, and while she felt sad for him, and while she knew that Stefan's switch had been turned when he had killed Enzo, part of her would never be able to forgive him.

Which made it hard for her to be compassionate in the face of his death. She felt sorry for Damon, yes, but she was still so very angry at Stefan, at what he had done, how he had ruined her life, that she simply couldn't bring herself to console his brother.

She had tried, of course. But when she had almost snapped at Damon one day, almost said, "well, he deserved it for everything he's done, for all the lives he's ruined," she had known it was time to step away.

"Ouch!" Bonnie cursed under her breath, spitting out the nails she had balanced between her lips while hammering one of them into a slab of wood. She hissed, putting her smarting finger into her mouth as if that would take the very real physical pain away.

 _You need to take it easy, love. Go somewhere else, resume your travels. See more of the world._ Enzo was hunching down next to her, his hands hovering over her finger as she looked at it, concern in his features, and love.

She couldn't see him, of course, but for a brief moment, she closed her eyes, as if seeing into the nothing around her, seeing him… And he knew she knew he was there.

"I just miss you so goddamn much!" She called out into the emptiness, choking down a sob, then she grimly went about her work again.

She was going to rebuild his cabin. Their cabin! If it was the last thing she did on this earth, but she would finish it. She would succeed.

If she couldn't have _him_ back, she at least wanted the place back where she had been the happiest.

* * *

…

She had gotten back from her trip around the globe after only a month. It had been great, liberating, exciting. But too soon she had realized that she couldn't escape what was hiding inside of her, that pain, that grief, that was becoming all-encompassing, weighing her down.

How did other people do it? Live with the loss of their loved ones? He wasn't even the first person she had lost. She should be used to it by now, the fact that everyone got what they wished for, except Bonnie Bennett.

Fate didn't seem to like her very much.

Fine, she thought, she didn't like fate very much either.

So she had decided to go back where she had been truly happy and change her fate. Not run from it, but face it.

She had sold the house on whose threshold Enzo had died and with the money - good money - she had bought all the tools and all the materials she would need for a small wooden cabin.

Screw the fact that she was not exactly good at any kind of handiwork. Screw the fact that she didn't know what she was doing. If it took forever, she would figure it out.

* * *

…

Soon, she'd had people help her here and there. Matt came by, Alaric. Damon and Elena…

They hadn't dared question her project, they had simply offered their assistance, and in the end, she had accepted. Because why not? She had given the world everything, so it was more than earned, more than time that she got something in return.

"How do you do it?" She had asked Alaric on one such day, and he had given her a quizzical look. "Go on, after what happened to Jo, to Isobel…"

He had sighed and looked down, then he'd continued working while saying. "I did go on a lot of drunken benders. I'm sure you remember Amsterdam…"

He grinned at her sheepishly and she smiled back. "I don't know, all things considered that still seems like coping to me."

He inhaled deeply, looking her straight in the eyes. "Not really, no. I think I only came to terms with it after the incident with Florence." He wagged his eyebrows.

"The Phoenix stone." Bonnie remembered.

"Yup. Yet another disaster."

Bonnie worried her lip, tilting her head as she looked at him now.

"Listen, Bonnie. The pain won't go away, but it will become more… bearable to live with. As cliche as it sounds, though, that stuff takes time."

And she had nodded, a thought forming in her mind. What if…

* * *

…

Caroline had kept her distance from Bonnie for a long time. When Bonnie finally confronted her about it, working alongside her on another wall to her cabin, her friend suddenly broke down, crying, apologizing instantly.

"I'm so sorry, Bonnie, I just… don't know how to deal with this. I wish I could make this right for you. I wish… I don't know how to grieve for Stefan in your presence when I know what pain he caused you."

Stricken, Bonnie had pulled her in for a hug, not letting go for a long time.

 _Not saying I'm into this sort of thing, but you two together… there's worse things to behold…_

She could almost imagine Enzo making an inappropriate remark, could almost hear his light mirthful chuckle. _I'm joking, love, I'm just messing with you…_

But it felt so real, so… close, that her breath hitched for a moment and she thought that she saw him, hovering at the edges of her vision, only ever on the periphery, and when she tried to look at him, focus, he was gone.

She and Caroline promised each other to be there for each other more from then on, and they were.

Caroline was back almost every day after that, and the cabin quickly grew into something recognizable.

* * *

…

When her body was sore and tired from a day of work, she usually fell into bed, quickly falling asleep, dreams haunting her, nightmares. But also those she seeked out actively, that she didn't ever want to wake up from.

 _I love you, Bonnie Bennett. I love you too much to witness you wasting away your life like that._

"I'm not wasting it away. I'm trying to rebuild it.

* * *

…

When the cabin was finally finished, she had a little party, just her closest friends, just a few drinks and music, and Italian catering.

"Enzo would be so proud of you, Bon," Damon whispered into her ear, smirk in place, bourbon in hand, "rebuilding his quaint little hideout with such an eye for detail…" He nodded toward a small guitar stand beside the fireplace and wiggled his eyebrow at her. "Sources told me that even three years of lessons never made a good player out of you. So many talents, little witch, but you never mastered that? Be honest: what were you really doing in this cabin?"

She gave him a look, suggestive, but also so very sad that Damon pulled her in for a sideways hug.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, seeing her tears well. "You made him the happiest man - vampire, whatever - out there, you know that, right? What I destroyed, you brought it back: he died the man he should have been, happy, and full of love."

She didn't want to hear it, even though she knew he meant well.

 _He can be a good friend, if you let him. He learned from his mistakes..._

She kissed his cheek and went away.

* * *

…

The epiphany came in a dream. Spin Doctors was playing. A malicious grin wiped from a face that now looked tired and drawn out.

"You can come back from that hell… If you let me out, I can help you get back what you so crave. _Who_ …"

She didn't trust him. She wasn't stupid.

But she was desperate. So she made that pact.

"Bonnie!" He gave her an exaggerated bro hug, patting her on the back when he was done, strutting through the cabin with cocky self confidence, walking over to her fridge, munching on some leftovers while he touched everything under his nose. "Cute little place you got here. Cozy. Care for a roommate?"

She rolled her eyes. There was nothing she wanted less.

He cackled.

"Kidding, kidding. Don't be such a sourpuss, dear Bonnie."

 _He's dangerous, love. Just let it be..._

But she couldn't. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts.

"You're not staying," she told him, "So, the deal was I let you out-"

"And I'll help you with your little… problem. Resurrect dear Lorenzo. Fine."

Dark magic, forbidden, powerful. Dangerous.

"You know I'll need to siphon your magic, girlfriend."

She glared at him, angry, but then walked over, stepping right in front of him, taking his greasy hands in hers. "Do it."

 _No!_

It was over quickly. She found herself crumpled to the floor, nose bleeding, head pounding.

"Well, that was fun. Pleasure doing business with you." He bent down, grabbing her face, forcing a kiss onto her lips. "So long, Bonnie Bennett!"

"Wait!" She yelled when her vocal cords finally worked again, but he had already stepped over her and out. He was gone. Along with her magic, her integrity, everything she had left.

Gone.

A wail escaped her then, almost as loud and powerful as the one before. She closed her eyes, ready to just give up. He had betrayed her. He had just stolen her magic and-

A gentle touch. A breath against her cheek.

"Oh, Bonnie Bennett. I missed this," he touched her lips with a finger, then replaced it with his mouth, kissing her, so softly, so real. "I missed _you_."

Fresh tears were welling in her eyes, but this time, there was a smile on her face. She grappled at his face, cupping it between her hands before she hurled herself at him, clinging to him, clawing at him as if she wanted to crawl under his skin, and she really did.

She wanted to be where nothing and no one could ever break them apart again.

"Enzo," she choked out his name, it was barely intelligible, barely more than a raspy sound deep in her throat. He was really there. With her. In their cabin.

He was back.

"Check again, little witch." The voice came out of a hazy fog, and then she looked up and saw him. Still there, lingering in the doorframe, leaning against it way too casually. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't possibly risk you putting me back into my prison so I created one for you. I still fulfilled the deal, though. I think that makes me a pretty honorable man, all things considered, don't you think? Anyways…"

"You-" she jumped up, not finishing her sentence. Enzo was already at Kai's throat, glaring at him, and the man made choking noises, though he was still grinning.

"What did you do?" Enzo hissed, and Kai spoke with his eyes, staring at Bonnie.

"A little… help."

She nodded to Enzo, cautious, and he reluctantly eased his grip on Kai's throat, though still pushing him hard against the wooden wall of the cabin.

"Speak!" Bonnie ordered, and the wide mischievous grin returned.

"I take it you two are already used to spending time holed up in this place. Figured it wouldn't make much of a difference if instead of bringing him back to you, I brought _you_ to _him_ , onto the other side - oh," he looked at her mildly, as if she was dense, and she really felt like she was, her face ashen, her eyes flickering with disbelief and anger.

"In case you didn't know," he continued, "after you destroyed hell, a new place for all the lost supernatural souls had to be created. And since your quaint little… 'imaginary world' had already exploded out of you following dear Lorenzo's untimely - or was it? - demise," he chuckled, "it just so happened that they were all referred over here, and you, dear little Bennett witch, you're now the new old anchor to the Other Side, except, now you're working from over there instead of the other way around," he shrugged. "You are most welcome. Oh, and… Congratulations!"

"You did this."

Enzo clenched his jaw, holding Bonnie back as she slapped Kai across the face.

"Easy now," Kai grinned, almost looking turned on by the way she had hit him, "If I was informed correctly, you managed to bring him back from the Other Side once before. I'm sure you can do so again…"

There were no words.

* * *

…

They let him leave as they didn't really have a hold on him anyway, not on their side. And she was just relieved when he was gone and Enzo was still there.

She was so relieved that she could touch him, that they were together, that she didn't even care about whatever repercussions her deal was going to have.

She was with him. They were together. They'd figure the rest out eventually.

Until then, they'd continue their story, adding another few chapters to their tale.

Kai had been right about one thing: they had already spent a lot of time together in the cabin. It had become more than just Enzo's safe house. It had become their safe haven.

It always would be, Other Side or not. And as long as they were together again, they could conquer anything.


End file.
